Take Me Over Drabbles - Klaine Advent Challenge
by fbeauchamphartz
Summary: These are Take Me Over inspired one-shots I wrote for the Klaine Advent Challenge on tumblr. Each on takes place in the future of the story Take Me Over. Each one is rated differently. Some are cute, romantic, family friendly, and sweet. Some have the bondage, D/S, spanking, and kinks we have all come to love :)
1. Kurt and the Fine Art of Cookie Decorati

**A/N:** _This was written for day 1 - "Artist" I would rate this NC-17.  
_

To say that Kurt Hummel loved decorating Christmas cookies was a gross understatement. Kurt adored it. Kurt wasn't a big fan of the Christmas holiday itself per se, but decorating cookies was his hidden passion. From the first moment Elizabeth Hummel sat her son on her lap and swept a string of colored gel across a snowman's neck to make a scarf, Kurt became hooked. Two decades later, Kurt's collection of edible trims and icings had grown considerably from just a few tubes of colored gels. His little box of tricks contained a full palette of royal icings, all sorts of candied baubles, and delicate silver pearls so beautiful, most people picked them off their cookies to avoid eating them at all.

It wasn't just the trim that was too beautiful to eat. Kurt knew at least a dozen people who had opted to save instead of savor last year's signature selection – a cinnamon butter cookie decorated with a faux stained glass window representation of the nativity scene.

Most of Kurt's friends and associates revered his exquisitely decorated cookies, keeping their distance at this time of year out of respect for the artist.

Everyone, that is, except for Blaine.

Blaine, who should have known better.

Blaine, who should have just left Kurt alone.

Blaine, whose swift fingers had already managed to pilfer six candied buttons, a handful of sugared snowflake sprinkles, and more chocolate and butter biscotti flavored biscuits than Kurt could count.

Kurt eyed the sneaky fingers as they walked comically along the counter, while their owner hid behind the relative safety of the kitchen island, in search of another treat.

The click of metal closing quickly around Blaine's wrist stopped him short.

"Uh…"

The sneaky thief lifted honey colored eyes to look at his boyfriend, a fire melting through prismatic eyes of steely gray.

"Alright," Kurt said, pulling on the empty end of the handcuff to get his sub to his feet. "I think it's about time that you learned a little something about the fine art of cookie decorating, and why it needs to be respected."

Kurt dragged an enthusiastic and curious Blaine to an obliging kitchen chair and sat him down, attaching the handcuffs to the rung of the chair. Kurt's skillful hands swiftly undressed Blaine, leaving his shirt hanging down one arm, and otherwise only in his boxer briefs. Kurt left him for a moment to retrieve a plate from the counter. On it were a variety of colorful icings, trims, and brushes. He appraised Blaine for a moment, tilting the man's head to gaze up at him.

"When I was little," Kurt began, picking up a tiny brush and dabbing it into a fine iridescent powder on his plate, "my mother taught me to decorate cookies." His brush picked up the glittering dust, which Kurt carefully applied to Blaine's cheeks.

"It is probably the most special moment I remember spending with my mom."

Kurt moved Blaine's head back and forth with a finger to his chin, making sure the dust spread evenly on both sides. He put the brush down, and picked up another, tiny, fine point brush. This he used to pick up a dab of bluish-silver gel.

"You see, Blaine…" Kurt swept the brush along the line of Blaine's plump lips. "I was six, and I didn't realize it yet, but my mom was already dying."

Blaine gasped in a sharp breath as he watched Kurt's face, brow furrowed in concentration, but eyes misty and distant. Kurt put the brush up to his lips as he looked Blaine over, deciding, and then making a choice. Kurt picked up another brush. Another fine layer of powder dusted Blaine's neck.

"She drew the most elaborate Christmas scenes, and I always thought there was no way we could fit all of that onto a cookie. Not unless the cookie was the size of a Buick." Kurt's voice wavered as he laughed, putting down his brush and picking up a pair of tweezers. With these, he selected individual candied gems, dipped them in white royal icing, and started placing them carefully over Blaine's eyebrows and along the line of his cheeks.

"But she always managed it. And they were so amazing…I don't think I've ever made one that could match hers…"

Blaine swallowed hard, watching a single tear break free from Kurt's eye to roll down his cheek, but Kurt's hands never shook.

"The last Christmas we spent together, we made cookies every day until she went to the hospital…"

Kurt switched from gems to pearls, lining those down the bridge of Blaine's nose. As the icing dried, it made Blaine's skin itch, but he didn't move, didn't dare twitch. He watched as Kurt continued with his decorating, waiting for him to return from his journey.

"Making these cookies and giving them to my friends, it's a way of keeping her close."

Kurt put the plate down, and with a small dollop of a gold infused gel in the palms of his hands, ran his fingers through Blaine's hair, taming his curls.

Kurt stepped back to look at his masterpiece. He smirked, pulling his iPhone from his pocket and taking a picture.

"And, I can't do that if you keep stealing my supplies."

Kurt turned the camera toward Blaine so he could see his face. Decorated in shimmering power with pearls and gems lining his cheeks and eyes, he looked like some sort of mystical elf or magical creature. He smiled, but a sweet sadness filled his chest.

"Kurt…" he whispered, watching as Kurt dusted off his hands and put them on his hips. "I didn't know. I am so sorry. I…I'll never steal anything again. I promise."

Kurt smirked, waving a hand in front of his face.

"I don't really mind," Kurt said. "Actually, I usually make extra on purpose just so you can take them."

Blaine sat up straight, his brow furrowing, his expression incredulous.

"Wh-what? Then…"

Kurt shrugged.

"No reason, really. I was feeling a little down and I just needed to get that off my chest."

Blaine giggled, shaking his head gently so as not to dislodge the decorations on his face. He sighed when he saw Kurt walk toward him.

"So, what now?" Blaine asked, assuming Kurt would unlock him. Instead, Kurt straddled his lap and slowly, carefully licked the icing from Blaine's lips.

"Right now," Kurt whispered, licking his lips, "I'm in the mood to eat my _own _cookie."


	2. When You Find People Who Love You

**A/N**: _Written for the prompt "Belong". Rated G._

Finn, Jr. walked through the front door, slamming it behind him. Kurt and Blaine watched as the boy tossed his book bag to the floor and stomped furiously to his room. He opened the door with all the strength he could muster, and then slammed that door behind him as well.

The whole room full of people, gathered around an undecorated tree, stopped dead, their attentions drawn by the door that had stopped shaking in its jam. Kurt was sure he could hear the sounds of silent sobbing, muffled by a pillow. Dave and Kurt shared a significant look from across the room. In answer, Kurt raised his hand, pointing to himself to signal that he volunteered to talk to Finn. Kurt kissed Blaine gently on the lips before walking to the boy's room.

Kurt knocked gently on the door.

"Finn?" Kurt called gently, opening the door and stepping inside, closing the door behind him.

Finn had burrowed beneath his NFL comforter, not a hair or limb peeking out, but Kurt could see the stuttered rise and fall of Finn's chest as he cried quietly.

"Tough day at school?" Kurt asked, sitting at the foot of the bed, hoping that maybe an eye would peek out, giving him some indication that Finn was okay.

"I don't want to talk about it," came the muffled reply.

Kurt put a soothing hand on Finn's leg.

"Come on, sweetie," Kurt soothed, trying to coax the boy out. "Maybe you'll feel better if you talk about it."

Finn sighed, long and dramatic.

"Just some kids at school," Finn divulged. "They're being jerks."

Kurt knew that 'kids at school' usually meant two particular kids. Simon and Mason. They had found out through a series of unfortunate events that Finn was not only an orphan, but being raised by two men. This seemed to lead to a recently unending series of taunts and jabs at Finn's expense.

It had been several years since Finn and Rachel had died, leaving their four kids to Kurt and Dave. Finn, Barbra, Eva, and Elphaba had soon become the lights of their lives. When Kurt met Blaine and they fell in love, the family just continued to grow. Now, with them all living in L.A., they had a house full of love, but Finn, being the eldest and only boy, seemed to feel lost more often than his sisters.

"What did the two braniacs say now?" Kurt sighed.

"Just…just that…" Finn stuttered, choking a bit on his words. Kurt's heart melted. Whatever they said must have been bad.

"That what, sweetheart?" Kurt prompted gently.

Finn's breath hitched.

Kurt braced himself for the worst that elementary school kids could come up with.

"They said…they said that since I don't have a mom and dad, I don't belong to anyone."

Kurt hadn't expected that.

Kurt lay down beside the awkward-shaped lump beneath the comforter.

"That's not true," Kurt said reassuringly. "You know that's not true. You belong with me, and Uncle Dave, and Uncle Blaine…"

"Yeah, yeah, yeah," Finn said, sounding annoyed. "I have a million and one uncles, but no mom and dad."

Kurt wrapped an arm around Finn's waist and held the boy close.

"Finn," Kurt started quietly, "you had an amazing mom and dad. And they loved you very much. That's why they decided when you were very little that if anything ever happened to them that you and your sisters would come live with Dave and me."

Finn peeked his head out of the blanket and looked at Kurt through his father's eyes – eyes that never failed to take Kurt's breath away.

"So, they gave us to you and Dave, and we belong to you?"

"Not quite," Kurt explained. "You don't belong to us, you belong _with _us."

"What's the difference?" Finn asked.

"The difference is this," Kurt said, pulling the boy out of the comforter, "belonging is less about blood, and more about love."

Finn made a disgusted face.

Kurt laughed, climbing off the bed and leading Finn to the bedroom door. He opened it and they stepped out, surveying the commotion in the living room. Blaine sat on the floor with Eva, opposite Hunter with Elphaba sitting in his lap. Nick and Barbra were dressing dolls in vintage Bob Mackie dresses. Dave and Adam stood by a large punch bowl, seriously debating egg nog issues. Jeff, standing by the t.v., eyed Finn and smiled brightly, waving a Wii remote in his direction.

"Finn," Kurt said, wrapping his arms around the boy's shoulders and kissing the crown of his head, "when you find people who love you, that's where you belong."


	3. Useless Emotions

**A/N: **_This was written for the prompt "Consume". Rated PG._

Blaine isn't always like this. He's usually pretty good at pushing aside old, useless memories and letting them rot in their graves. For years, as the quintessential TV star playboy, the absence of his mother and father from his life has been easily forgotten. But now, with Kurt by his side, and his new adopted family, Blaine sees only what he's missing, and none of what he has.

His mom and dad. There's a place waiting for them, of course, if they ever want to come back and be a part of his new life, but with a sad sigh he realizes that's never going to happen.

Moving on hasn't always been easy, but at the very least, it was easily forgettable. Why did it seem so difficult now?

"Hey, love." Kurt hands Blaine a cookie, carefully wrapped in a green napkin, and sits beside him on the floor. "You know, there's a perfectly good sofa right there in front of the tree in you needed a place to sit."

"I know," Blaine says, putting down his treat without even glancing at it. "I just needed to think."

Kurt nods his head, knowingly, biting his lip as he looks at their little family spread around the living room. Four kids. Four beautiful, unexpected kids. He couldn't really think of a better gift. He would rather have Finn and Rachel with them to enjoy the holiday season. It had always been their favorite time of year.

Christmas is always a bittersweet time for Kurt, thinking about all the people he's loved…and lost.

But it's hard to dwell on that kind of pain when there is so much joy in the house.

"Did you call them?' Kurt asks, trying to sound as nonchalant as possible given the circumstances.

"No, I…I sent them a card. You know, the one we had made with everyone's picture on it?"

Kurt smiled immediately, remembering the picture they had taken for their Christmas card, and the pandemonium that had ensued.

Kurt loops his arm with Blaine's and snuggles close.

"I'm so sorry that after all this time your parents are still such asses."

Blaine couldn't help chuckling.

"Yeah," Blaine says, looking down at Kurt's arm linked with his, the perfect circle they made. "That's a good way to put it."

"But, you know, you've been sitting here in the corner for close to an hour, and I'm afraid that if I don't pull you away from here, you'll stay here all day."

"I know," Blaine agrees, "I know. I don't quite get why it bothers me so much."

"Because they're your parents," Kurt says simply. "They're supposed to love you unconditionally. And when they don't, and they turn their backs on you, it's almost like they've died…"

The words catch in Kurt's throat, and he has to stop and hold Blaine close.

"That's what it feels like exactly," Blaine says. He shrugs. "I feel like I'm grieving."

"I get it," Kurt says. "And grief is a useful emotion. But you can't surrender to it. If you give into it too long, it will just consume you. Grief is an emotion that takes and takes and gives almost nothing back."

"So, what should I do?" Blaine says sadly.

Kurt kisses him on the cheek.

"I think you should read your cookie," Kurt says cryptically. He gives Blaine a pat on the leg, then stands and walks back to the group of sated kids, involved in their various games and toys, or in the case of little Elphaba, asleep under the tree with a new stuffed dog wrapped in her chubby little toddler arms.

Blaine picks up the forgotten cookie wrapped in its little green napkin and unwraps it delicately, expecting to see one of Kurt's carefully decorated masterpieces that are too pretty to eat. What he sees lying on the napkin is something far more beautiful.

On the perfectly round sugar cookie is a message just for him, printed in purple gel.

'I love you.'

The words are by no means written perfectly, and in fact, are terribly misspelled. But none of that matters. He knows who made it. Little Eva, the first of their adopted clan to truly accept Blaine as a member of the family.

This family.

His family.

As he smiles down at the lopsided words, he feels a pair of eyes watching him. He looks up to see a familiar face framed by a head of dark curls staring at him. The brown eyes light up as the little girl smiles, waving madly.

He knows he's not going to get away with sitting in the corner and letting grief consume him any longer, so he gets up from his seat on the floor and walks over to the sofa so he can share his special Christmas cookie with his best girl.


	4. Not a Thing Would I Change

**A/N:** _A second one written for the prompt "Consume". Warnings for handcuffs and bondage. Rated M._

Kurt sighs as he removes the last of his clothing, happy and content. After a long day spent designing and re-designing the same pattern over and over, of dealing with high-maintenance clients, and pinning fabrics till his fingers almost bled, this was the perfect way to spend the evening – relaxing naked on his blood red futon, stretching out beside his sub, reading out loud from one of his favorite Jane Austen novels, _Pride and Prejudice_.

Blaine lay beside him, naked as well, but on his stomach, wrists cuffed to the headboard, a small smorgasbord of food lining down his back – mostly berries drizzled with melted chocolate in tiny bowls, and disks of sushi lying on lettuce leaves. After reading a paragraph or two, Kurt leans over to pluck a desirable tidbit into his mouth – first one for himself, and then one for his sub, which he delivers with a searing kiss to the other man's waiting lips.

In this way they enjoy their dinner, while Kurt regales Blaine yet again with the fortunes and misfortunes of the precocious Ms. Elizabeth Bennet.

"Elizabeth was surprised, but said not a word…" Kurt reads, feeding the last of the sushi rounds to Blaine. Blaine takes the whole piece into his mouth, but lingers to kiss and lick Kurt's fingers, which obligingly hover just in front of his lips.

"After a silence of several minutes, he came towards her in an agitated manner, and thus began-"

Kurt removes the empty bowls from the back of his sub, wrapping his body around Blaine's as he reads his favorite line.

"In vain have I struggled. It will not do. My feelings will not be repressed. You must allow me to tell you how ardently I admire and love you."

Blaine turns his head towards Kurt, looking to capture Kurt's lips in a kiss. Kurt always kisses Blaine at this point, either overcome by romance or to keep from crying, Blaine doesn't know. But it doesn't matter. Blaine knows Kurt, almost as well as he knows himself. He knows what makes his dom laugh, and what makes him cry. He knows when to be available, and when to keep his distance.

Just as he thought, the moment he turns his head to face him, Kurt is there, his lips claiming Blaine's over and over, a gentle tongue slipping through the seam of his perfect pink lips to caress Blaine's tongue in return.

Kurt moves in closer beside Blaine, deepening the kiss, sliding against him, hard and wanting. The book tumbles from his hand, but a tiny slip of paper drifts out, lodging itself beneath Blaine's arm and the mattress. Kurt's fingers dance over it, then stop. He plucks it from beneath Blaine's body, opening his eyes while he continues to kiss Blaine, holding it before his eyes as he reads.

Suddenly, his heart stops cold.

Kurt breaks away from Blaine and stands, as if struck by a bolt of electricity.

Blaine's eyes open slowly, a dreamy gaze in his confused, golden eyes. When he sees Kurt reading the well-worn sheet of paper, his eyes fly open wide.

"Kurt…"

Blaine pulls against the handcuffs, but they won't budge.

"Kurt, I can explain…"

Kurt reads over the words on the paper again and again, his brows knitting together, his blue eyes becoming a steely gray, his face flushing red.

"Are these song lyrics?" Kurt sounds cold, angry.

"No," Blaine says quietly, "it's a…uh…it's a poem."

Kurt holds the page between two fingers.

"About me?"

His voice cracks a little. Blaine swallows hard.

"Yes," Blaine says evenly.

Kurt reads it again, his mouth moving, mumbling the words softly. When he gets to the final stanza, he reads more loudly.

_And your eyes, my life, consumes,_

_I do not give my love in halves,_

_So you can have all of me,_

_Or not at all._

Kurt knows exactly when Blaine wrote this. Kurt and Blaine don't fight very often. A rare few have been absolute doozies - one in particular over the fact that Kurt is gay, and Blaine is bi. Blaine made a comment, which he sometimes does without thinking, about a woman, and Kurt took offense.

To be honest, he was heartbroken.

It struck him in that one place where all his insecurities hide; the biggest one being his irrational fear of losing Blaine to a woman.

"Consume? I consume you?" Kurt's voice raises a fraction, becoming more of a high-pitched whine. His lips quiver and his hands shake. "All of me, or not at all? So, what are you saying, Blaine? Do you not want to be here?"

"No, Kurt! I want to be here! I do. Would I do this if I didn't?" Blaine says emphatically, pulling on the locked cuffs for emphasis.

Kurt drops down to the futon. Blaine sighs.

"Kurt…I was angry. I felt like you wanted to change me. And, I just want…"

"Want what?" Kurt prompts softly.

"I want what I am to be good enough."

Kurt smiles and shakes his head.

"Well, I hate to break it to you, Anderson," Kurt says, standing up and crossing over to his sewing table, "it's not."

Blaine drops his head, his face burrowing into the pillow as he bites his lip hard. He doesn't see Kurt open a small drawer and pull out a folded piece of paper of his own, opening it up and carrying it carefully back to his sub.

He sits back on the mattress. Blaine raises his head, a look of utter resignation and despair on his face.

"It's more than enough."

Kurt slips the page on the pillow. Blaine looks down at it, relief and shock flooding his body at the exact same time.

It's a poem, written by Kurt, after the exact same fight, but this one is all about how much he loves Blaine…just the way he is.

Blaine reads the poem through, but rereads the ending over and over till he has it set to memory.

_…a man who gives me his everything,_

_Unconditionally,_

_Whose flaws are so perfect,_

_Not a thing would I change._

"Do you really mean that?" Blaine asks, looking up at Kurt with hopeful eyes.

"Every word," Kurt whispers, hugging Blaine's shoulders and resting his head on Blaine's back.

Blaine bites his lip, his eyes flicking down at the poem on his pillow, and then back at his dom lying on his back.

"Would you show me?" Blaine asks sweetly. "Show me all the things about me that you wouldn't change?"

Kurt smiles, shaking his head and looking over Blaine's beautiful, bound body.

"Give me a second," Kurt says, straddling Blaine's hips and running his hands up Blaine's sides and over his back. "I just have to figure out where to start."


	5. Hands Off!

**A/N:** _I wrote this one using all three prompts - Artist, Belong, and Consume. Kurt gets a little dark here. Warnings for predatory behavior, bondage, blindfolds, anal plugs, cock rings, riding crops, whipping, and anal sex. I would rate this M._

It's a strange club that Kurt takes Blaine to. Kurt was surprised when Blaine asked him to go. It's no secret that Kurt and Blaine, though extremely and enviably in love, also share a committed dom/sub relationship. It's this part of Kurt's life that first lured Blaine into Kurt's bed, after the whole "love at first sight" thing was factored in, of course. Being a dom also helped Kurt launch his insanely popular clothing line. Mostly, Kurt and Blaine keep their deviant pleasures private. So, when Blaine approached Kurt and asked him to take him to a club Nick had told him about in Hollywood, Kurt was definitely intrigued.

Kurt had been to D/S clubs before in San Diego, as part of his job, but he had very happily transitioned into a life of peaceful domesticity with his claimed sub, his make-shift family, and a house full of kids.

He is there tonight because, in the end, he would do anything for Blaine.

Blaine had been a little over the top excited when Kurt said yes. He wanted to know if Kurt would have to take him in a leather collar, on the end of a chained leash.

Kurt cocked an eyebrow.

"Do you _want_ to be on a leash?" Kurt had asked, trying to stifle a laugh.

"Uh…" Blaine had rolled his eyes to the ceiling, thinking and fantasizing. Finally, he squeezed his eyes shut and shook his head.

"Maybe not for the first time out," Blaine had said. "But, I wouldn't object to a collar…if you don't think it would be too tacky."

So, Blaine is wearing a tasteful black leather collar with a subtle 'KH' embellished on it in rhinestones. Amazingly enough, it goes well with his purple tailored shirt and his black slacks.

Kurt can't help how incredibly turned on he is to have such a handsome man by his side.

He's not the only one who notices.

"Why don't we go get a drink?" Kurt suggests, leading his sub into the club. Somewhere between the dance floor and the bar, Blaine is separated from Kurt, a strong hand taking him by the elbow and dragging him away before Blaine can even call out for help.

The whole atmosphere of the club has unconsciously changed Blaine's attitude. It makes him feel _more _like a sub, in a strange, mind-altering way. So, when the firm hand grabs him and leads him away, he is literally at a loss as to what he should do, but he knows, no matter what, he needs to get back to Kurt.

The man pulling him away – tall, muscular, with rough hands and a thin set mouth – traps Blaine against the wall, blocking Blaine's view of Kurt.

"Wow," the man says gruffly, his whole body reeking of cheap cologne and Vodka, "look what I managed to snag here, and right out from under the nose of that fairy fuck."

The man sneers, his eyes roving over Blaine with a dirty, hungry look. Blaine feels himself sweating.

"You can't touch me," Blaine says, remembering things that Kurt had said and trying to sound more confident than he feels. "I'm claimed."

"I don't see anything," the man says slyly, looking everywhere but Blaine's collar. Then, with a venomous grin, whispers, "and I didn't give you permission to speak."

Blaine sees the man's intent in his eyes as he raises a hand to strike him. Blaine tries to move his arms, but they feel like lead at his sides. He braces himself for the strike across his face, but it never comes.

Long, pale fingers wrap around the man's raised wrist and start yanking him away.

The gruff man pulls violently.

"Get the fuck off me you Tinkerbell freak," he roars, but Kurt refuses to let go. Kurt doesn't even break stride when he rears around and smacks the man soundly across the face with Blaine's leather riding crop, which he had kept hidden beneath his jacket.

"You can't do that to me," the taller man hisses. "I'm not a sub."

"No," Kurt combats coolly. "You're a bitch. And when I'm done with you, you won't be a dom, either."

Kurt drags the man through the crowd, all the way to the bar. Catching the man off guard, Kurt cuffs his hand quickly, attaching the other end to the rail. Other patrons at the bar move aside quickly, not willing or caring to get involved in another dom's business. Kurt tears off the man's Marc Jacobs knock-off button down shirt, exposing his muscular back.

The man looks up through his one, non-swollen eye to see Kurt standing over him, steel eyes shining, with a leather riding crop in his hands.

"You wouldn't dare," the man growls, his voice a combination of murderous rage and overwhelming fear. The slim, pale, delicate looking man standing before him is not weak as he first assumed, and now, he's not looking forward to what he knows awaits him.

"You want to see what we do to sub predators where I come from?" Kurt asks to no one in particular, but surprisingly, a small group of interested subs and doms gather around.

Blaine can barely see Kurt as he beats the man senseless, but the sounds are enough to tell that he's definitely getting what was coming to him. Blaine salivates slightly, remembering all the nights he spent tied to a bed while Kurt whipped him, and all of a sudden he feels himself grow hard, and longs for Kurt to take him home.

The riding crop sings as it slices through the air, the tethered man groaning and sweating as he tries to squirm away. He nearly passes out by the time Kurt decides he's had enough.

The bartender looks over the crisscross patterns on the man's back, and nods approvingly.

"You're quite the artist," he says with a wink.

Kurt sighs, exhausted.

He's not a young dom anymore.

"Here," Kurt says, reaching in his pocket for his wallet. "Let me pay my bill."

"Oh, no," the bartender says, waving Kurt's money away. "I'll put it on _his_ tab."

Kurt nods with a tired smile. He turns and walks swiftly through the crowd, seeking out Blaine. Kurt finds him standing nervously off to the side with a group of other subs, all unclaimed, all women, cooing at him soothingly, and hovering around him protectively, keeping him out of sight of other predatory alpha males. They part obediently, heads bowed when Kurt appears.

Kurt extends a hand to his sub, and it takes all of his discipline not to make a scene and crush himself against Kurt's body.

* * *

Blaine is a little taken back by Kurt's silence on the drive home. Kurt barely looks at Blaine, didn't acknowledge him other than to tell him to get into the car.

Blaine can't understand how he is feeling. He feels slightly emasculated, and he desperately wants to talk to Kurt, but Kurt's eyes are glued to the road, and his thoughts are elsewhere.

Kurt pulls up to Blaine's house, and his heart sinks. It had been a long time since Blaine had moved in with Kurt and his family, and now, Kurt is obviously so disgusted by what happened, he's going to drop Blaine off at his old house, to spend the night alone.

They enter the house in silence, Blaine locking the door behind them. Kurt motions silently to the bedroom. Blaine follows behind his dom, who walks swiftly through the bedroom door and heads straight for the bathroom.

"You know how I want you," he says with barely a glance back at Blaine, and even though his voice is icy and devoid of emotion, a small glimmer of hope flares in Blaine's chest.

* * *

If Blaine has to venture a guess as to how long he's been tied in an iron cross to his bedposts, his cock bound in a brand new and restrictive ring, blindfolded and plugged, he would have to say over an hour. Sweat rolls off his back, his ass, his shoulders, even through his hair. He feels the hard leather of his own personal riding crop come in contact with his skin over and over, some welts growing over other welts, cutting through his skin in a way Kurt has never done before.

It's not unbearable, but it's definitely a lesson.

"How are you doing, princess?" Kurt snarls, and Blaine can't help but wonder what Kurt is really angry at – him for asking to go to the club to begin with, the man for trying to steal him away, or himself for not keeping a better eye on Blaine. He can't help but hear a tiny quiver in Kurt's otherwise stony voice.

Kurt seemed so cool, calm, and collected at the club. Had he actually been scared?

Either way, Blaine's body is full to bursting. His cock is so hard within the confines of its cage that cock ring or no, Blaine's about to cum. He tries not to pull on the ropes around his wrists, tries not to moan as the leather stings his back, tries to be the picture of absolute and utter discipline.

He wants Kurt. He needs Kurt bad.

The only way he's going to get Kurt is through obedience.

Blaine's mind has wandered too far, hasn't heard Kurt ask him a direct question and give him permission to respond.

"I'm so sorry, princess," Kurt grinds out through his teeth, "Am I boring you?"

With that, he hits Blaine across the ass. He hits him hard.

This time it's pain…pain with an edge. It pushes the metal plug further inside Blaine's ass – close to where he wants it, but not close enough. The sensation lights within him like a bonfire, raging out of control, all consuming. Kurt's words hang in the air over his head like an anvil, waiting to fall, as his terrible black swan whips him mercilessly.

"Tell me, princess…" Kurt's voice is calm, with a subtle crackle beneath it like lightning. It makes Blaine's hair stand on end, "who do you belong to?"

Kurt waits, anticipating, seeing how Blaine will respond.

When he doesn't say a word, doesn't make a sound, Kurt smiles a wicked smile.

"Good boy," Kurt purrs, pleased to see that Blaine remembers his manners. "_Now_, you may respond."

"You," Blaine pants, trying to control the heavy rise and fall of his chest, trying not to hyperventilate. "I belong to you. Only to you."

"Very good," Kurt says, looking Blaine's body over.

Kurt steps up behind him, molds his bare chest against him, leaning in to the marks on Blaine's back, letting them sting. Blaine doesn't hiss. He doesn't cry out. He's a good sub, deserving of Kurt's love and affection.

He belongs to Kurt.

"You know," Kurt whispers. "I know this wasn't all your fault." Kurt threads his arms underneath Blaine's, raking his nails down Blaine's chest, leaving raised marks in their wake. "I saw the look in his eye. I knew he was after you. You were supposed to stay with me, Blaine. It's my job to take care of you."

Blaine lets his head hang as he absorbs the heat of Kurt's body, seeping straight through his wounds, connecting with his blood, which is where Kurt belongs.

Inside his blood.

Not just in that 'animalistic fuck him stupid' sense.

In that melancholy 'I can't live without you' way.

That sweet 'you're in my heart and soul' way.

The 'you're my undeniable everything' way.

Here they stay - Blaine barely hanging by his wrists, poised on the balls of his feet to keep from falling, while Kurt holds him, pressing against him in sinful black vinyl pants, polished by Blaine's tongue sliding up his leg, and Blaine's lips mouthing over Kurt's erection before he was bound to the bed.

"Do you want me, Blaine?" he hears Kurt whisper, his lips moving along Blaine's bruised skin. "Do you want to feel me inside you?"

Blaine wants to answer. He's dying to scream yes, but until he gets that one little command, everything he wants seems meaningless.

"You may respond, sweetheart," Kurt breathes.

"Yes," Blaine rushes out a little too quickly. "Yes, I want you."

Blaine hears the sound of Kurt unzipping his boots, slipping them off, and then peeling off his vinyl pants.

Blaine knows his black swan is naked behind him, and just the image, the thought of Kurt's naked body standing behind him, almost tips him over the edge. The plug is carefully removed, but everything else remains, which is good because one glimpse of Kurt's skin would be his undoing, as would Kurt's erection pushing into Blaine's body if not for the cage.

Kurt grabs Blaine's hips, and Blaine imagines this will be hard and fast.

Kurt's first push into Blaine's body, smooth and slow, takes Blaine by surprise. Blaine's head rolls back against Kurt's shoulder as Kurt moves against Blaine, pushing deep within his body, sinking until they're pressed together, skin to skin, holding Blaine still.

Blaine gives and Kurt takes, and while he does, he whispers so softly Blaine almost doesn't hear.

"I love you, Blaine. I won't let anyone hurt you. I can't let anyone have you. You belong to me, Blaine. You belong to me."

Blaine wants to agree, but at this moment, his mind is slipping away. His body is restless, aching for release. His mind, his body, his soul is on fire. Kurt's hips are quickening, speeding up the pace, his fingers tightening around Blaine's hips.

"Oh, my Blaine," he moans possessively. "My beautiful, beautiful Blaine."

Surprisingly steady fingers undo the cage around his cock and Blaine knows – he knows that Kurt is giving permission to cum.

He does. He cums hard, even before Kurt's hips begin to stutter. It's like the answer to an unasked question that's been hanging in the air too long.

Kurt knows his sub. He doesn't even give himself a moment to bask in the afterglow before he's quickly untying Blaine's wrists and laying him down on the bed, head tilted over the side so he doesn't pass out.

Kurt lays down beside him, panting hard as he stares at the ceiling, waiting for Blaine's breathing to relax.

"I want…" Blaine tries to say, hiccuping a little with the effort. "I want…"

"A picture?" Kurt finishes, smiling as Blaine tries to nod.

Kurt climbs off the bed and finds his jacket, laid carefully over the chair in the corner. He fishes the cell phone out of his pocket and photographs the marks that cross up and down Blaine's back and over his ass. He hands Blaine the phone, laying down beside him.

Blaine swipes through the pictures, looking at the angry red welts that litter his back and smiles.

"Wow," Blaine said with a tired chuckle. "That bartender was right. You _are _quite the artist."


	6. Puddle of Mud

**A/N: **_This is for the day 4 prompt - "Dirt". Rated G._

Kurt put the last pin into the sleeve of the silk organza dress when he noticed it, and his blood ran cold. Silence. Absolute quiet. With four rowdy kids in his life, the last thing he wanted to hear was nothing. He looked at his watch. 2:15. He had been at this dress for over two hours. Kurt actually felt panicked. Where were they? He stepped outside his little backyard studio and took a look around. Another peaceful L.A. day, with the sun bright overhead, and the wind blowing through the branches of the trees.

But nowhere could he see hide or hair of his kids.

Come to think of it, where the hell was Blaine?

Then, Kurt knew.

He stomped through the back patio doors and found them where he had so many afternoons this week – four children and Blaine, covered in head to toe mud, sneaking into the bathroom.

"Blaine Devon Anderson!" Kurt practically screeched. "This is the third time this week! We're digging a pool outside, not a mud wrestling pit!"

Blaine tried to look ashamed, but he only managed mildly sheepish, especially with little Eva squirming in his arms, giggling, as she squished a clod of still damp dirt between her fingers.

"Oh, come on," Blaine said, shifting the little girl from hip to hip to keep her steady. "It's not going to be a big, fun dirt pit for too much longer. Besides, how can you have four kids and a big back yard and not get dirty? Isn't it some sort of requirement?"

Kurt huffed.

"Look at me, Blaine," Kurt said, motioning to his spotless ensemble. "How many years have I had these kids, and do you see a spot of dirt on me? Huh? No! That's right."

Blaine hung his head, finally looking properly ashamed.

"You're right, Kurt," Blaine said, a smile hidden in his voice. "There's not a speck of dirt on you."

Then, Blaine's eyes flicked up, their teasing glint all too clear.

Kurt shook his head, reaching behind him for the door knob.

"Blaine..." Kurt said, his voice a warning, "don't you dare..."

"Come on, kids!" Blaine yelled to the gaggle of little kids, "Get him!"


	7. The ground beneath Our Feet

**A/N: **_A second drabble for day 4 prompt "Dirt". Rated PG._

Blaine woke up alone, brought out of a deep sleep by the faint sound of scraping right outside the bedroom window. Blaine squinted, trying to find a glimpse of his beautiful dom anywhere in the room. The orchid colored walls made the room seem darker. It was almost impossible to see anything but silhouettes and shapes.

"Kurt?" Blaine's hoarse voice whispered into the dark. "Kurt? Are you there?"

No sound at all but the crackle of the baby monitor in the corner, and the mid-summer breeze furling and unfurling the sheer curtains.

Another scraping sound, like a kitten scratching down the wooden boards of the patio outside. The sound, combined with the overwhelming dark, made everything that much more surreal. Blaine's squinty eyes turned to the clock on the table by the bed. The red numbers read 3:30 A.M.

"Ugh!" Blaine groaned. In three hours he'd have to go pick-up Burt and Carole at the airport.

Suddenly, everything clicked into place.

As if emphasizing the point, another prolonged scrape sounded from right underneath the window.

"Kurt," Blaine groaned a little louder. "Again with the height of the lilies?"

Kurt's face slowly emerged from beneath the windowsill as Blaine got up out of bed. Blaine couldn't help but snicker when he saw his stylish dom, his gorgeous boyfriend, face smeared with dirt where he had brushed his hair from his face over and over again. Kurt's expression, sheepish and repentant, also looked innocent and almost childlike. Blaine had only ever seen it once – when they had driven the kids to see their grandparents for the first time in years.

"Kurt…" Blaine approached the window, peeking out to look at the gorgeous white flowers glowing in the moonlight. Kurt's Burberry pajama pants, however, were most likely ruined. "I'm sure your dad will appreciate all the effort your dad is putting in to make the house beautiful, but he's coming here to see you and the kids, not the flowers."

Kurt pouted slightly.

"The flowers aren't for my dad," Kurt retorted, "they're for Carole. And they're callas, Blaine! Do you know what that means?"

"No, Kurt," Blaine said with a smile and a shake of his head, "I can honestly say I have no idea what that means."

"It _means_," Kurt sneered, "that placement is key. If the bulbs stay wet, they'll rot. If they get too much sun, they'll burn. I was stupid this afternoon, planting them too low, and in afternoon sun? Why didn't I just light them on fire? No, under the sills is perfect…the soil gets plenty of air, and there's a slight rise, they're not too close to the house, and…"

Kurt's eyes burned into Blaine's honey-gold gaze as his sub began to laugh.

Kurt didn't even need to ask.

"Kurt, this isn't about the height of lilies, is it?" Blaine reached out a hand and swiped some dirt from Kurt's forehead, rolling it through its fingers, feeling the smooth, silky texture. He couldn't help but notice how cute Kurt looked with some dirt on his face.

Kurt sighed.

"You know, I'm a perfectionist…" Kurt looked down at his feet, kicking at the dirt right beneath his toes. "But, I've been failing for so long, with my life, with these kids. My father's only known me as a failure. I'm sort of nervous about him seeing me as a success."

Blaine furrowed his brow. He could kind of see where Kurt was coming from, but it was hard for Blaine to ever think of Kurt as a failure.

"And this house," Kurt continued, "I want it to seem like a home. My dad gave me a home…and now…I need this to be one."

Blaine's eyes narrowed as he considered Kurt's words. He put up a finger, turning away from the window and running to the closet. He reached up for an old, worn shoe box on the shelf above the clothes. He pulled it down and carried it over to the window.

Kurt looked at the box, his eyes wide.

"Is that…"

"Yeah…" Blaine shrugged self-consciously. "It's the box my parents sent me when they wrote me out of their lives. The one with all the letters and…well, I keep all sorts of things in here now…"

Blaine rummaged through the box and pulled out an old film canister.

"Including this."

He handed it to Kurt. Kurt popped the lid carefully and looked inside. He raised an eyebrow, looking at the contents suspiciously. He lifted the canister to his nose and sniffed it.

"It's dirt," Kurt said conclusively.

"Yup," Blaine said, taking the container back. "My mom gave it to me. You see, when she left the Philippines as a little girl, she left her family, her home, everything. She didn't even have a suitcase. The only thing she took with her was this. Back when she still loved me…she gave it to me. She told me that as long as I had it, I would never forget where home was…where my family came from…"

Without a second thought, Blaine overturned the canister and emptied into the lilies underneath the sill.

"Blaine!" Kurt squealed, louder than he intended. "What are you…"

"Now, this is home." Blaine put the canister back in the box, and the box on the floor.

"But, Blaine…"

"But nothing, Kurt." Blaine took Kurt's hands in his, aware that Kurt's filthy hands shed dirt whenever Blaine touched them. "This house is not a home because that dirt's here, or because the lilies are under the windowsill, or because there's a roof over our heads. This house is a home because you're here, and the kids are here, and because it's filled room to room with love. And you…" Blaine put a dirt stained finger beneath Kurt's chin, lifting his downcast eyes to stare into his "…are not a failure. You never were. It doesn't matter if we were living in a broken down trailer, or this house, or a box by the river…love makes a house a home. And this dirt…it's just the ground beneath our feet."

Kurt smiled, leaning forward through the window to kiss his boyfriend softly, giggling as grains of soil dislodged from his hair and fell, tickling his nose.

"How about we go take a shower," Blaine suggested, standing back a bit so Kurt could scoot in through the open window, "and you can get me a little dirty."


	8. The Perfect Car

**A/N:** _I don't feel bad posting this because we all know this is where it's headed anyway :) Another drabble for day 4 "Dirt". Rated G._

"Where did you hear about this car from?" Blaine asked Finn as he picked his way through tall weeds and a myriad of old, abandoned car parts.

"I saw the ad on Craigslist," Finn answered, chipper as he bounded through the field, zeroing in on an aging car in the distance.

"But why here?" Kurt called to the teenager, picking carefully over gopher holes that sprouted almost as numerous as the weeds. "It looks like a scene from _Deliverance_," he added under his breath.

"Well, to be fair, you said he got to pick the car you bought him for his birthday," Adam added, tripping over a rock in his way. Dave caught his arm just in time.

"Yeah, but I guess I just assumed…"

"No assuming, Uncle Dave," Eva yelled, sprinting out past him to catch up with Blaine, "it makes an…"

"Don't you finish that, young lady," Kurt barked.

Eva stuck her tongue out as she latched onto Blaine's free hand. Blaine scrunched his nose, rubbing it against hers, and whispered in her ear, "It makes an ass out of you and me."

Kurt rolled his eyes. Then his blue eyes went wide. They all stopped short when they saw it.

"This…is a car…right?" Adam asked, looking from one astonished face to another.

"In theory," Dave answered.

"The car in question was a Mustang once, I'm assuming?" Kurt approached the vehicle, appraising the mound of metal critically.

"Finn," Blaine said, addressing the boy, still making heart eyes at the broken down vehicle. "I promised you could have any car you wanted…"

"Good," Finn said, "because I want this one."

Dave shot Kurt an amused look.

"Who does _that_ sound like?" Dave teased.

"Oh, Finn," Kurt said, scrunching his nose at the discolored lump of metal that could barely be classified as a car. "It's covered in five feet of dirt."

"I think that might be what's keeping it together," Dave joked.

"I think there are actually squirrels living in here," Adam offered, peeking underneath one of the wheel wells.

"Come on, guys," Finn pleaded, "haven't you just…you know…you looked at something and known it was meant to be yours…forever?"

Finn looked over the car, seeing its potential.

Kurt looked at Blaine.

Dave looked at Adam.

All four men sighed.

"I'll call a tow," Adam said, kissing Dave softly on the forehead and pulling out his iPhone.

"And I'll go pay for this lump," Kurt said, pecking Blaine sweetly on the lips.

"Hey," Blaine called. "Ask him if the squirrels come with the car."


	9. A New Take on a Classic

**A/N:** _Written for day 5 prompt - "Echo". Rated G._

A New Take on a Classic

Kurt sat on the end of his oversized, four-poster, king sized bed and sighed. This was the fifteenth time in about as many years that Kurt had tried to redecorate his room. His personal style was always changing, fashion transforming and evolving with every passing trend. Even his design studio had gone under the knife a couple of times, thanks to a generous benefactor and the help of Nick's talented eye. So, why was it his room remained untouched, safe from the ever changing whims and fancies of one Kurt Hummel?

The reason was actually pretty clear. The whole room, from carpet to ceiling, was a gift from Blaine, decorated in surprise and secret to Kurt's exacting standards. But even he had to admit that the Dior Orchid walls were a little more than last season, the pale gray carpet looked a little more worse for the wear, and the sheer white curtains, though meticulously cleaned were starting to yellow.

Blaine wrapped a comforting arm around Kurt's waist. Kurt leaned a head against Blaine's shoulder.

"You could always lighten the walls up just a bit," Blaine suggested.

Kurt shook his head and sighed.

"No. You have to be committed to a color like orchid. It's like a religion. Otherwise, I might as well just go down to the Home Depot and buy any other God awful shade of purple and slap it up there."

Blaine's lips twitched into a small grin. He didn't want to chuckle, not when Kurt looked so distressed.

"Okay, then maybe we can just go ahead and replace the carpet…"

Blaine heard a soft gasp. He rolled his eyes fondly.

"We'll get the same color," Blaine amended, "just new. How about that?"

Another shake of the head.

"They discontinued this color years ago, and I've never been able to find on that matches perfectly. So, no."

Blaine's eyes swept the room. Kurt kept his room fairly minimalist – no art on the walls except for a few beloved pictures, and not a lot of furniture. So, in reality, there wasn't much he could add or take away that would change the overall look of the room without making a major overhaul.

Kurt had already re-done most of the house, and the backyard. The living room had undergone several facelifts already. The dining room was so far removed from the original décor, Blaine could barely recall that the walls had originally been caramel in color. And the kids' rooms…well, three of them were gone already, and the fourth, little Elphaba, was on the verge of flying the coop. Those three rooms hadn't been immune.

Blaine knew the rapidly emptying house was what this desire to remodel was mostly about.

Kurt, ever the dom, needed something to control.

This room seemed, in some strange way, to be the last piece of the puzzle, and yet it remained locked in the past.

Kurt's eyes fell on the vanity in the corner. His mother's vanity.

"Maybe it's time," Kurt breathed. "Maybe I should just get around to replacing that old thing."

Kurt stood up and approached it slowly. He ran his hands reverently over the smooth surface and smiled. He could almost hear the echoes of his past when he touched it. He remembered the first time him mother sat him on her lap to watch as she carefully applied her makeup, how she would spray her perfume and deliberately hit him instead, her infectious laugh at the way his nose scrunched up and his eyes squeezed shut.

"No," Blaine said defiantly. "No, that I will not agree to."

Kurt smiled. Of course, he would never replace his mother's vanity. It was just nice to hear a little of Blaine's own dominant nature come through every once in a while.

"Okay," Kurt said, turning on his heel to face Blaine, "I'm not leaving this room without changing something, so what? What do I change?"

Blaine stood up and spun around slowly, finger tapping his chin.

"The curtains," he said finally. "We'll change the curtains."

"Fine," Kurt said, his mouth set in a thin line. "Let's go to the fabric store so I can get started.

"Great." Blaine took his dom's arm, "what were you thinking?"

"I'm thinking…sheer…and white…"

Blaine stopped short.

"Kurt," he whined, "but the old curtains are sheer and white!"

"Yes," Kurt said sagely, "but they're _mostly_ sheer and most of an arctic white. I was thinking of something a little _less_ sheer, and closer to a cream color."

Kurt kissed Blaine on the cheek, his eyes dancing with excitement at the idea.

"You'll love it," Kurt promised. "It'll be a new take on a classic."


	10. Punishment

**A/N: **_This is a future fic written for day 6 prompt "falter"._

Blaine breathed in deep – a sharp, painful breath that burned his lungs like acrid smoke seeping in through his sinuses. The blood rushing through his body roared in his ears with a noise like the pounding of water over a fall. Sweat didn't drip, didn't trickle, it poured down his body, coming from every inch of skin. He was sweating from places he didn't even realize could sweat. He felt it weave through his curls in rivers, collecting at his hairline, then racing down his face. It tickled his nose and burned his eyes. He couldn't wipe it away fast enough.

His soaked shirt clung to his back. He cursed his sweat pants for keeping in all the heat. One pathetic fan in the corner of the room did nothing to cool down his overheated skin. Instead, it simply relocated the hot air, shifting it back and forth across the room, taunting him. If there was any way he could strip down to his boxer briefs, he would have. He wasn't sure anyone would really mind, but just in case, he wasn't really in the mood to get arrested.

His muscles screamed as Kurt punished him over and over.

"Come on, princess," Kurt commanded in his sing-song voice, filled with equal parts beauty and menace. "Keep up!"

A titter of high-pitched laughter followed Kurt's demeaning reprimand, the noise multiplied over and over until the whole room echoed with laughter. Blaine could care less at this point. His arms could no longer handle the strain, and hung limply at his sides. His feet had gone numb. He moved on momentum alone. Sometimes, the burning in his lungs got so bad, he started holding his breath.

Blaine's vision began to blur. A thick haze obscured his vision. He began to feel the strange, dizzying euphoria that came with oxygen deprivation. All of a sudden, Blaine couldn't stop himself from moving, lured in this strange dance by the high pitched sound of Kurt's voice, his laughter, even his occasional insults at Blaine's expense. He was powerless against it.

Blaine began to giggle. That giggle echoed, but when it bounced back to his ears, it was peculiar. The voices didn't sound like his own. His limbs, still moving on their own, started to falter. The world tilted and spun quickly. He was standing in one spot, but had the bizarre experience of seeing everything behind him.

"Blaine?" a beautiful voice, full of worry, broke through the haze. "Blaine!"

Blaine felt himself fall through the air, limbs light as he plummeted to the hard wood floor. Blaine stared toward the ceiling blankly, his whole body feeling heavy, too heavy to even blink.

Blaine felt effervescent…amazingly high. He giggled again, his chest heaving as he started cough. His giggles rebounded again. He began to enjoy the effect of giggling into blurry space and hearing it return to him, oddly cloned and twisted. Blaine saw blurred images gather around him, swaying slightly. He reached his hand out toward them, but they seemed to bob away.

Suddenly, from the haze a single image became clear. Kurt stood over him, hands on hips, his lips twisted into an amused smirk.

One of the fuzzy hallucinations came closer.

"Mr. Humble," the hallucination said with a lisp, "your friend fell down."

"I know, Jonathan," Kurt replied, "but I'm sure he'll be alright."

"What should we do with him?" another blur with a head of bright red hair asked.

"Should we call an am'blance?" an identical blur standing beside it asked.

Kurt peered at Blaine more closely. Blaine's eyes fought to focus at the images that started to swim as he blinked, so he decided to just close his eyes and rest his head back on the floor beneath him.

"Nah," Kurt said to the class full of worried kids. "He'll be fine. Just avoid him."

The kids giggled as they went back to their spots on the workout room floor.

Kurt tsked as he looked down at his exhausted sub.

"Really, princess," Kurt commented, looking at Blaine in mock disgust. "It's a Bokwa class for three to five year olds and you couldn't keep up?"

Kurt huffed. Blaine just sighed as he rolled onto his stomach, pressed his cheek to the cool floor, and succumbed to sleep.

"We have a lot of work to do…"

Kurt shook his head, laughing mischievously, as he walked away.


	11. The Perfect Promise

**A/N: **_This is a future fic for today's Klaine Advent Prompt - Gift. Rated G. It features Dave and Blaine taking a special shopping excursion._

It was late…and it was getting cold…colder than usual for an L.A. evening, even in December. Dave had followed Blaine from store to store for the past seven hours, and still no luck – nothing special, nothing that would even come close to being anywhere near perfect for Kurt.

Dave sighed as he watched his frantic friend look through case after case with no hope in sight.

Blaine, super suave, charming, super star Blaine, looked like he was about to combust. Sales women at every store tripped over themselves like teenagers to help Blaine find what he was searching for, and every time they failed, they looked utterly destroyed and heartbroken.

Every woman wanted Blaine, and since they knew they couldn't have him, being the one to help him choose the most important purchase of his life might be the next best thing.

Dave's heart hurt for this man, the best friend he never wanted.

Blaine had reached his wits end. Their last stop had been Tiffany's – TIFFANY'S for fuck sake! If he couldn't find something perfect here, maybe it just didn't exist.

Blaine gazed in the last case, a perky, strawberry blond saleswoman leaning provocatively over the glass, watching him with a lustful stare. Dave rolled his eyes.

_'Classy,'_ he thought with a grimace.

Dave intercepted his bedraggled friend. He held him by the arms and looked down into his face - a pale, drawn mask of desperation.

"Blaine," Dave said evenly. "You have to calm down."

Blaine swallowed hard, shaking his head, sending his mass of unchecked curls flying.

"No," Blaine muttered. "No, you don't understand. I can't find it. It doesn't exist! The perfect one for Kurt doesn't exist…"

"Blaine…"

"I've checked everywhere, Dave!" Blaine whined. "Every jewelry store in L.A.! Every online store! Website after website for artisans in Europe, and…and…I just can't find it!"

"Blaine, it doesn't have to be perfect…"

"Yes!" This time Blaine screamed. "Yes, Dave! It does have to be perfect! Don't you understand? It's not just a gift, Dave! It's a promise!"

Dave rolled his eyes, but he couldn't shove away the smile on his face.

_'Actors,'_ he thought. _'So much drama.'_

Dave thanked the stars above that he only represented athletes, though he had to admit, that was often times an unhappy shit storm of its own.

"Okay," Dave relented, putting an arm around Blaine and leading him out of the store, the busty store clerk giving a defeated huff behind them. "You need to listen to me for just a moment, okay."

Blaine nodded.

"Okay."

Dave walked Blaine down the sidewalk to where Blaine's sports car was parked.

"I think you're right," Dave said slowly. "I think the perfect one for Kurt doesn't exist…"

Blaine stopped walking, turning to Dave in a panic. Dave held up a hand to silence him.

"…yet, Anderson. The perfect one doesn't exist _yet_."

"So, what are you saying, Karofsky?" Blaine mocked.

"I'm saying…" Dave continued, nonplussed by his stressed out friend's obvious barb, "that you surround yourself with creative types. Design one yourself."

Blaine quietly considered Dave's suggestion, then all at once his face lit up.

"Dave," Blaine exclaimed with a look of surprise and relief, "that's an amazing idea!"

Blaine unlocked the car doors and Dave fought for the thirtieth time to squeeze himself inside, wondering as he did so many times what would his life be like without the excitement of Blaine Anderson.


	12. An Amazing Gift

**A/N: **_This is a future one-shot for the Klaine Advent prompt for day 7 - 'Gift'. I'm rating this PG, but warnings for blood born illnesses and treatment. Very angsty, featuring two unsung characters from my fiction - Elphaba and Hunter._

_I am not a doctor, but this story is based off a real life situation that happened to the child of a friend, and I have written the medical portion as close to exactly as it happened._

Kurt bit into his fist to keep from crying for the hundredth time.

He didn't understand how he could have missed it.

When the fevers and the chills manifested, Kurt just assumed Finn had the flu, until he was helping change Finn's sweat soaked shirt and saw it.

A cut, no bigger than a fingernail scratch really, that became infected. The infection was kept hidden. A hidden illness had grown and taken over.

Now, Finn – beautiful, wonderful, athletic Finn – lay on a bed in the ICU, pale and septic.

A staph infection, most likely contracted from rough housing on the filthy mat at the Boys' and Girls' Club he liked to play at with his friends after school. Kurt always made such a fuss over scratches and scrapes, Finn probably just decided to save himself the trouble and ignore this one.

It was easy for Kurt to get pissed at Finn for just a minute – for putting his life in danger, for putting his sisters' lives in danger - but that anger didn't last long. It was shoved away by fear and guilt.

Another child in the hospital.

Another failure as a parent.

This, however, was different from when little Eva had broken her leg.

They could actually lose Finn.

Finn – with his father's eyes, and nose, and gullible, easy going nature, but all of his mother's ruthless ambition.

Kurt couldn't lose Finn.

Of all of the children, Finn was the most like his parents.

It would be like losing them all over again.

Abscesses had formed, and had to be surgically drained. Doctors told them that Finn was young, and he should come through just fine.

The staph, though life threatening, turned out to be a blessing, a road sign that led them to another problem – an underlying blood infection that preceded the staph infection, probably by only a few hours, but was much more dangerous. It, too, could be cured, but would require a blood transfusion…and fast.

Blood from a family member was highly recommended, but since only two of his younger sisters fit the bill (little Eva being incapable due to her own regimen of medications), everyone stepped up to the plate.

The small group gathered in record time – Kurt, Dave, Blaine, and Adam of course. Hunter, Nick, and Jeff as well. Even Thad came in to be tested. Unfortunately, none of them even came close.

Finn had a rare blood type, AB negative, compounded by very specific genetic markers, which in this case couldn't be ignored.

He shared this trait with only a single other member of his family – little Elphaba.

Kurt and Dave found themselves caught in a bind. Kurt's knee jerk reaction was a definite 'no'. Dave agreed, wanting to vehemently refuse.

"She's too young!" Kurt argued. "And so small for her age. There's no way she could donate. There has to be another way."

"Yes," the doctor agreed, "she is young, and in most cases we wouldn't even consider a transfusion from her, but the fact of the matter is this is an emergency situation. We could take a chance with an anonymous donor, but we don't have any AB negative blood on hand. We'd have to get some sent from another hospital. Locating it and transporting it would take time we don't want to spare."

Kurt sighed, dropping his head in his hands, shaking gently. Dave put a hand on his shoulder, squeezing comfortingly while simultaneously wanting to fall to pieces.

"She's a perfect match," the doctor explained quietly. "Her blood would pretty much ensure that the treatment would be an overwhelming success. We don't need much, and we won't put her in any unnecessary danger. I promise."

Kurt agreed, but he refused to make the decision for her, no matter what. Even though she was only six years old, Kurt and Dave sat the little girl down and tried their best to explain the severity of the situation in a way a child her age would understand.

"So, I have to give him my blood?" she asked, wide eyed and more than a little frightened. "Like a gift?"

"Yes," Kurt said sadly, "a very important gift. Without it, sweetie, well, I don't know…"

Elphaba's breath caught in her throat.

"Oh, baby." Dave wrapped comforting arms around her. "If you don't want to do it, we'll still do everything we can for your brother, I promise."

Elphaba was confused. She couldn't understand why Kurt and Dave would chose her brother over her, but she loved Finn, and if this special gift would make him better, she would give it. Elphaba thought for just a moment, before looking at her uncles with wide, watery eyes and agreed.

"Do you want me to stay and hold your hand, baby?" Kurt asked, trying to be brave for his little girl.

Elphaba's lips quivered as she watched a nurse with Dora the Explorer scrubs carry a tiny kidney shaped container with needles and tiny packets of alcohol and set it on a table beside her.

"W-would it be okay if Hunter held my hand?"

* * *

Hunter pulled a stool up beside Elphaba's chair, and the girl immediately laced her delicate fingers between his. He saw the little girl's eyes watering as she courageously held back tears. He leaned forward and rested his forehead against hers.

"You know," he whispered, "you can cry if you want to."

Elphaba sniffled as the nurse took the girl's arm.

"No," she said in a small, trembling voice. "Everyone else is being brave. I'm going to be brave, too."

Hunter nodded, putting a comforting hand on her head of wavy cinnamon colored hair.

Elphaba started to pant nervously as she felt the nurse rub along her arm with the cold alcohol.

"What would you like to do while you're here?" Hunter asked, trying to distract the girl. "I brought my iPad. We could play a game, or watch some cartoons. I could read you a book."

Elphaba nodded, and then suddenly sucked in a sharp breath as the nurse carefully stuck the thin needle into the girl's arm.

"Owie, owie, owie, owie, owie…" the poor girl chanted.

"It's okay, doll face," Hunter cooed. "Shhh, it's going to be okay…" Elphaba couldn't hear him, and Hunter bit his lip, praying that he could be brave enough himself not to cry.

Being so young and so small, they took Elphaba's blood over a long period of time. Hunter did his best to keep the girl occupied, with stories, and games, and knock-knock jokes, but even though everything was going smoothly, Elphaba seemed unspeakably depressed. When the nurse came back, smiling warmly, removing the needle and putting gauze and a bright pink wrap around her arm, Elphaba seemed even more upset.

"There you go," Hunter said with a smile. "You're all done."

Elphaba looked down in her lap and started to cry.

"Oh, sweetheart. Baby." Hunter took the small girl in his arms. "It's all over now. Finn's going to be just fine because of you. You're a hero."

Elphaba nodded sadly.

"So, what's the problem, angel?"

Elphaba could barely speak, but still managed to ask, "How much time do I have left?"

Hunter's brow knit in confusion as he looked at the little girl.

"What do you mean? We just have to sit here for a bit and wait for the doctor to make sure you're okay, and then we can go."

"No." Elphaba shook her head. "How long do I have till I die?"

Hunter sat straight up with shock at her question.

"Honey…" Hunter picked the girl up off the chair and cradled her in his arms. "Why do you think that you're going to die?"

"Be-because I gave Finn all of my blood," she sobbed. "And I know that you can't live without blood, so…"

Hunter wrapped his arms around the little girl and rocked her soothingly, burying his face into her strawberry scented hair, and this time he couldn't help crying.

* * *

"I'm such an idiot!" Kurt hissed as he left Elphaba's room. After Hunter told Kurt and Dave about his conversation with Elphaba, the whole group made it their mission to lavish her with extra love and attention. Hunter spent the afternoon with her, reading all of her favorite books until he knew them by heart. Kurt made cupcakes for dinner. Blaine and Nick took her out shopping and bought her a new dress. By the time Elphaba went to bed, Kurt had never seen a smile so big on the little girl's face.

It made his heart break even more.

"It never dawned on me," Dave admitted as he leaned against Adam, holding tight to the other man's hand, "to explain just how much they would take, or that her body would make the blood back."

"Don't be so hard on yourself." Adam held Dave close, Dave leaning his head on Adam's shoulder. "You were worried about Finn."

"That's a reason, not an excuse." Kurt dropped down on the couch beside Blaine, raking his fingers through his hair in frustration. Blaine put an arm around Kurt's shoulders and held him close.

"We'd better get some sleep." Blaine kissed Kurt on the top of the head. "We have to relieve Nick and Jeff from bed sitting duty at the hospital in five hours."

Kurt nodded, waving at Dave, Adam, and Hunter, still sitting on the couch.

"I think we'd better pack it in, too," Adam said. "We have the shift right after theirs."

"Yup."

Adam stood, taking Dave's hand and pulling him up with him.

"Uh, if you guys don't mind, can I crash on your couch?" Hunter asked. "I cleared my calendar for tomorrow and I'd kind of like to be here when Elphie wakes up."

Blaine chuckled. Barely anyone used the nickname he had made up for Elphaba so long ago.

"Of course," Kurt said, turning to the linen closet outside his bedroom door and fetching out a pillow and some blankets.

Blaine smirked at Dave who was looking back at him with a knowing look.

"You really like her, don't you?" Adam asked.

"I admire her very much," Hunter admitted, taking the pillow and blankets from Kurt with a grateful nod. "She did an amazing thing today. She thought she was giving up her life for her brother. That's an amazing gift."


	13. The Harmony of Fire, Ice or Lightning

**A/N: **_This is a future fic inspired by the Klaine Advent Drabble Day 9 Prompt "Ice". Rated Explicit. Basically just smut for smut's sake. Warnings for ice play, heat play, light electrical play, oral sex, and hair pulling._

The Harmony of Fire, Ice or Lightning

_Disturb not the harmony of fire, ice or lightning, lest these titans wreak destruction upon the world in which they clash. Though the water's great guardian shall arise to quell the fighting, alone its song will fail, and thus the earth shall turn to ash. O Chosen One, into thine hands bring together all three. Their treasures combined tame the Beast of the Sea._

- _Shamouti Prophecy_

Kurt rubbed his tired shoulder as he made his way through the backyard from his design studio back to the house. He hadn't even made it to the steps when he heard heated arguing coming from the living room.

"No, no, no!" Blaine said. "It's fire, ice and lightning; not fire, ice and water!"

"I swear…" Finn started, but Blaine interrupted.

"That doesn't even make any sense!" Blaine was marking off on his fingers. "Articuno is the guardian of ice, Moltres is the guardian of fire, and Zapdos…hello! _Zap_dos, the guardian of lightning."

Finn stared at Blaine wide eyed, holding his Nintendo DS in his hands.

"You are so weird, Uncle Blaine," Finn said with a condescending shake of his head.

Blaine chirped out a mocking laugh, doing a little dance of triumph as the boy turned and walked off nonplussed to his bedroom.

Blaine's head snapped up at the sound of the patio door clicking shut. He stopped mid-dance, frozen in a ridiculous pose, as Kurt stared, a devilish glint in his ice blue eyes.

"Blaine? Really? Arguing Pokemon with a child?"

Blaine sputtered like a car trying to start.

"But…but he started it!" Blaine argued, hearing a bark of laughter from one of the closed bedroom doors.

"Yeah, well, I think I'm going to finish it," Kurt said, crooking a finger, beckoning Blaine to follow him.

Kurt led Blaine back out the patio door in the direction of his studio. He unlocked the door, gesturing for Blaine to walk inside. Kurt shut the door behind him and locked it.

"Clothes off, princess," Kurt said, his voice a chill breeze in the slightly heated room. "And you know how I want you. You're little argument gave me an idea."

Blaine stripped off his clothes, laying jeans, shirt and underwear on the chair in his own recording space. When he stepped back out, Kurt was gone, getting himself prepared in the bathroom. Blaine knelt on the floor at the foot of the mattress, hands on his knees, eyes downcast. For the first time in a long while Blaine actually felt anxious about whatever Kurt had in store.

Something about his and Finn's argument had inspired him.

Fire, ice and lightning.

Blaine swallowed hard. Nothing about those three things sounded even remotely erotic to Blaine.

The click of Kurt's stiletto boots snapped him from his thoughts. He found himself trembling as the sound came closer and closer. Kurt looked down at his beautiful sub and felt his heart sink just a bit. Blaine actually looked afraid.

He didn't think trust would be an issue at this point, or maybe it had been too long since Kurt had completely asserted his control.

"Now, now, sweetheart," Kurt said soothingly. "There's nothing to worry about. I promise this is going to be fun."

Blaine tried to cease his trembling, but that only seemed to make his shiver harder.

"You remember the safeword, right?" Kurt asked.

Blaine sat still; as motionless as he could manage.

"You may respond."

"Yes," Blaine said.

Kurt nodded, more to himself as he appraised his sub – so beautiful, so obedient. Kurt walked around the room and gathered a few items, setting them on the futon mattress out of Blaine's sight.

He decided to shock Blaine into responding. It would make punishing him so much easier, and maybe, just maybe, the act of being disciplined would refocus Blaine, make him less nervous. Kurt pounced on Blaine like a cat, sinful black vinyl pants and tank hugging his body, stuck like paint all over his skin. He pushed Blaine by the shoulders till he lay flat on his back on the wood floor. Kurt looked down into Blaine's face, his eyes open and empty. Kurt wound his fingers into Blaine's hair and tugged sharply, but Blaine didn't react, didn't flinch, didn't hiss – a perfect sub.

Kurt bit his lip. He picked up a black taper candle and a lighter from off the mattress. He held them up where Blaine could see them.

"We've done a bit with sensory deprivation…" Kurt said, flicking the lighter on, "and sensory overload. How about some sensory stimulation?"

Blaine's eyes became imperceptibly wider as he watched Kurt light the candle, holding it sideways over his body. It burn at the wick, traveling quickly down to the wax. The anticipation built inside Blaine as he waited, his insides quivering as a small drop of wax formed, becoming heavier and heavier as the wax melted. Blaine tried to brace himself silently, giving no outward indication of his fear. Kurt watched the anxiety build in Blaine's swiftly dilating eyes.

The drop hung heavy off the tip of the candle. It broke free of the taper and fell.

Kurt intercepted it, letting the drop fall on the back of his hand. Kurt hissed when the hot wax made contact with his skin, but moaned with pleasure when it quickly cooled. He shivered, and Blaine, trapped beneath his dom's body, felt Kurt's cock twitch in the vinyl pants.

Kurt's reaction to the hot wax fascinated Blaine. Finding pleasure through pain was Kurt's secret fetish, and Blaine wanted to learn to appreciate it the way Kurt did.

Suddenly, the thought of the wax excited him. He wanted it.

He wanted to feel the way Kurt felt when it touched him.

This time when Kurt looked into Blaine's eyes, they burned a lustful molten-gold. Kurt smiled.

"Do you want that?" Kurt purred. "Is that what you want?"

Blaine swallowed in response, but said nothing.

A drop of hot wax had formed while Blaine's attention was focused on Kurt's reaction. It fell, unexpectedly, and hit Blaine's chest. He clenched his teeth at the first impact of intense heat on his skin, but it cooled quickly as the wax dried. It should hurt. Something in his head registered that hot wax should logically be painful. It did sting, just a bit, but the more Kurt drizzled the wax over Blaine's skin, the more the sensation of heat punctuated by cool, sent bizarre tingles like needles over his skin. That alone probably wouldn't have made him hard without Kurt's vinyl clad body pressed against him, a hungry fire burning through the ice of his startling blue eyes.

"I think that's enough fire for now," Kurt purred, licking his fingers suggestively and using them to snuff out the flame. He set the candle and the lighter aside, and without giving Blaine a chance to imagine what might come next, Kurt grabbed a small handful of ice and pressed it to Blaine's chest.

Blaine's body responded without his permission, his head tossing back as he moaned. He wanted to rut up against Kurt's body as he keened, but he was more than sure he had just committed a punishable offense by his reaction to the ice. He didn't want to complicate matters too much.

Kurt pressed the ice into Blaine's skin until it melted completely. Kurt remembered this from one of their first encounters together…no…_the_ first encounter. The one where Blaine stole his heart…and hadn't returned it since. He held the ice to Blaine's chest until his skin burned with the cold, watching it melt and the water run in tiny rivers down Blaine's skin.

"Well, princess…" Kurt shifted his weight. Blaine lifted his head, his eyes almost black. "…that was fire and ice…now what about lightning?"

Blaine's face became rigid again.

He didn't even remember lightning.

Kurt smirked at the subtle change in Blaine's expression. He reached without looking and pulled something off the bed that looked like a tennis racket. He held it close to Blaine's ear and pressed a button on the handle, switching it on. Blaine could hear a slight electrical hum. He felt the hair on his head tickle, moving toward it as if attracted like a magnet.

"I picked this up to take care of any pesky flies that might dare come in here." Kurt savored Blaine's reaction to the low dose of electricity crackling so close to his skin.

"Now let me think..." Kurt looked over Blaine's body. "What have we been neglecting…ah, I have an idea."

Kurt stood, pulling Blaine up with him with a hand in his hair, tugging him up by Blaine's scalp. He pushed Blaine over till he was leaning low over the futon, his taut ass on full display. Kurt held the electrified racket just an inch from Blaine's skin, so he could experience the same sensation of crackling electricity near the skin of his ass. Kurt brought the racket back and smacked Blaine lightly, his aching cock throbbing at the slight sizzling sound it made on contact, and the yelp Blaine couldn't contain.

"Mmmm," Kurt hummed, watching Blaine's fingertips twitch, itching to grab the mattress, the flutter of muscles along his spine as his ass clenched with the hit, and the obvious movement of his own aching erection. "It looks like someone might like that."

Blaine almost hated to admit that he did. He liked it more than he thought he should. He waited for the next hit, wanted to scream for Kurt to hurry up. The other smack came when Blaine least expected it, as it always did. He bit his lip to keep from yelping again, but the smack sent him forward.

The next contact, this time to his strained erection, sent him back.

This time he groaned. The electricity from the racket making contact with his sensitive cock filled him with fire before his body went momentarily numb. His muscles trembled, his teeth clamped together hard, and he almost came.

Kurt laughed, a high-pitched giggle.

His black swan was enjoying himself.

Blaine wanted to smile. He missed being played with.

Kurt loved Blaine's obedience. He loved how sensitive his body was to stimuli, and how hard Blaine worked to suppress his reactions. Kurt could literally torture Blaine for hours if he wanted, spanking him until his muscles twitched and he came over and over. Kurt knew that at just the right angle, and in just the right spot, the electricity would travel along Blaine's nerve endings, hitting him deep inside, and Blaine would have to cum, whether he wanted to or not.

The idea made Kurt salivate.

An experiment for another time, though.

He felt it was time for Blaine to receive a little reward.

"Very good, sweetheart," Kurt said. "You did so well. I think it's time I give you something for being such a good boy."

Kurt pushed Blaine forward, a silent signal to lie down.

"On your back, love."

Blaine moved slowly, trying to reacquaint himself with the nerves and muscles that hadn't returned yet from their temporary vacation. Kurt climbed over Blaine, and took Blaine's breath away. Blaine couldn't remember the last time his dom looked this delicious – clothed in an armor of slick black ice that clung and defined every muscle in his body, but especially the prominent outline of his cock, which strained painfully in Kurt's vinyl pants. Blaine licked his lips as he stared, wanting to devour his dom, make him scream his name.

"Another time, sweetheart," Kurt said, intercepting the meaning of Blaine's gaze. "Now, tell me, my love, and you may respond – which do you prefer…fire or ice?"

"Ice," Blaine panted, his skin still tingling from where the electric paddle hit him. "I…I like the ice."

"Alright, sweetheart," Kurt cooed, climbing off the bed to retrieve the bowl of ice, and set it on the table beside them. "But in order to best appreciate the ice, you need the fire."

Blaine's eyes went wide, searching for the candle. Kurt grinned sweetly, condescendingly. "Oh, we're not going to use the candle my love." Kurt walked over to his cutting table where he had set a small, personal cup warmer and a mug of tea. He brought the mug to the bedside table and set it down carefully. Blaine could see the steam rising from the hot liquid. He eyed the cup with a mixture of apprehension and confusion. Kurt saw the flash of fear in Blaine's honey-gold colored eyes. Kurt leaned over his sub.

"In all this time, my love, don't you trust me?"

Kurt looked into Blaine's eyes, proud of his sub for having the discipline to not respond without being told.

"I don't want to hurt you," Kurt whispered. "I just want to break you."

Blaine didn't understand his reaction. His inner sub trusted his dom. He took a moment to remember everything they'd done together, all the time Kurt had put in to helping Blaine, even going so far as to switch for him.

Kurt loved Blaine.

Blaine loved Kurt.

In that love lay all of Blaine's trust.

Kurt had never betrayed Blaine's trust.

Blaine's muscles relaxed, his body pliant, willing, accepting.

Kurt took a long sip from the steaming cup of tea, swallowing it quickly and keeping his mouth clamped tight. He sank down over Blaine's cock quickly, engulfing his sensitive member in intense heat.

Blaine's eyes squeezed tight at the sensation of too much heat, but suddenly, Kurt sucked in a cube of ice, and the whole world turned into one stream of focus – the Arctic chill that surrounded him, massaging down over his length.

"Holy fuck, Kurt!" Blaine screamed.

Kurt's head snapped up with a playful scowl.

"Now, now, princess," Kurt purred. "None of that. No more outbursts from now on."

Blaine settled back down against the pillows, squeezing his eyes shut, waiting for the next assault.

Silence. No sound except the breeze outside the windows.

Then all at once, intense heat, a moment of overpowering warmth and Kurt's wet mouth. Then, without a chance to adjust to the sensation of fire, he got the ice – an exceptionally cold sliver of ice slid slowly down his length with the aid of Kurt's mouth on his cock. Blaine bit his lip, wanting to buck, wanting to keen.

"You may respond," Kurt said, feeling his sub's distress.

"It's too much," Blaine breathed out quickly. "Kurt, please, it's too much."

"Do you want to safeword?" Kurt asked.

Blaine's panting slowed, his breathing evened out. He felt the tingle across his body as the cool air heated his confused and sensitive skin.

"No," Blaine growled. He had never used the safeword before, and he wasn't going to start now. Especially when he was so close. "No…I want more…"

"Good boy."

Kurt mercilessly assaulted Blaine's cock, a constant shifting bath of heat and cold washing over him so quickly, he couldn't even tell them apart after a while. When he came down Kurt's throat, it wasn't the end, not even close.

In fact, it made him hungry for more.

Kurt climbed up Blaine's body, and Blaine lunged at him. He pinned Kurt to the mattress, knowing full well he didn't have any control. Not really. He only had the control Kurt gave him, and Blaine preferred it that way.

"I figured turn-about is fair play." Blaine peeled the vinyl tank from Kurt's torso, grinning at the unmarked alabaster skin.

'Not for long,' Blaine thought slyly.

"I was wondering…which do you prefer…fire…or ice?"

Blaine leaned over his dom.

He knew the answer, but he wanted to hear it from Kurt's perfect pink lips.

Kurt fixed the full power of his now silver eyes on his and whispered…

"Fire."


	14. Saw Movie Marathon

**A/N: **_This is inspired by the Klaine Advent Drabble Challenge prompt day 10 - "Jigsaw". Rated PG._

"Tell me what the point of this movie is again?" Kurt asked, watching the picture on the flat screen TV mostly through the space between his fingers.

The kids had been asleep for hours. Bowls of popcorn sat, virtually untouched. The lights had been lowered. The quiet house set the perfect stage for the movies Blaine and Dave had chosen for their Friday night movie marathon. Three couples sat on the wrap-around sofa, engrossed in the horror feature they had selected. Well, two couples. Nick and Jeff, who had become a permanent feature in their lives and on their couch, were a little too engrossed in each other to even register a movie was even on…or other people in the room, for that matter.

Adam and Dave snuggled close together on one end of the couch, with Blaine and Kurt on the opposite end.

Adam leapt into Dave's lap almost every five minutes.

"I have to agree." Adam turned his head and buried it into Dave's neck. His next response came out muffled since he still had his face buried in Dave's shirt collar. "I'm not sure I understand why you guys chose this particular film series."

"What I don't get…" Kurt said, nails raking down Blaine's leg as he tried to watch, finally giving up and burying his head into Blaine's shirt as well, "…is why this Jigsaw guy seems to think he has the right to do this to these people. So, they're assholes? So what!? That doesn't mean…"

Kurt's argument cut off completely when all four men groaned at a particularly gruesome moment. This time, Adam's face was buried in Dave's lap, and Kurt had pretty much climbed Blaine's torso like a koala in a Eucalyptus tree.

Dave and Blaine, matching smirks on their faces, turned to each other, giving each other a nod and a thumbs-up.

Horror movie marathon success.


	15. A Message Ill-Received

**A/N:** _Written for day 13 of the Klaine Advent Challenge "message". Rated M for smut and humor._

This was a rare moment for Kurt, craving his beautiful sub, not for domination, but to make love – slowly, passionately, sensually. Nick, Jeff, and Hunter had come over to play with the kids. It was a perfect opportunity.

When Kurt's door was closed, it was a blaring message to everyone to stay away, but for some reason, the subject of dinner had become a life or death issue, and a different kid every five minutes found the need to knock on the door.

It started with Finn.

"Yes, Blaine," Kurt moaned, "touch me. Touch me right…"

_Knock, knock, knock._

"Kurt? Can we order a pizza?"

Kurt sighed from his position on Blaine's body, hard cocks sliding together, Blaine's fingers dancing dangerously close to Kurt's entrance.

"No, Finn," Kurt replied calmly. "We're having chopped suey."

"Ewww," Finn groaned as he sulked, walking away from the door.

Blaine chuckled, fingers slowly slipping into Kurt's body. Kurt threw his head back and moaned.

"God, yes," Kurt sighed. "Just like that…I…"

_Knock, knock, knock._

"Yes?" Kurt gritted between clenched teeth.

"Who's Chuck Suzy?" Barbra asked.

"What?" Kurt asked while Blaine tried to stifle a laugh.

"Chuck Suzy," her sweet voice repeated. "You said he was coming to dinner."

"Not Chuck Suzy," Kurt growled. "Chop Suey. It's what we're having for dinner."

"Oh." Barbra's voice sounded thick with disappointment. "Yuck."

This time, Kurt decided to take things up a notch, sliding roughly against Blaine's body, bucking back against his fingers as they turned, scissoring, seeking, and then finding, brushing in slow, gentle circles in Kurt's favorite spot.

"Oh, yes," Kurt moaned, eyes rolling to the back of his head. "Right there! Please, don't stop, don't…"

_Knock, knock, knock._

"What!?" Kurt roared, and this time Blaine did laugh, biting his fist while his body shook.

Finn again.

"Does chop suey have tofu in it?" Finn asked. "Because I'm pretty sure I'm allergic…"

"Holy hell!" Kurt screamed. "Order the God damned pizza!"

"Okay," Finn said pensively. "If you say so."

Kurt bit his lip and growled. He grabbed Blaine's curls and pulled them hard, his eyes glowing silver and hot like steel.

"Fuck me!" he commanded in a low, dangerous voice. "Climb on my ass and fuck me now before I go insane."

Out in the living room, Barbra, Finn, Jeff and Nick all high-fived while Hunter ordered the pizza.


	16. Neon: The Noble Gas

**A/N:** _This was written for the Klaine Advent Drabbles challenge prompt Day 14 "neon". Warning for baseless humor._

Blaine walked into the living room to see Finn sitting on the floor at the coffee table, markers spread all over - some capped, most uncapped – while he labored over a piece of white poster board. In the center he had drawn three concentric circles. The middle one had 'Ne' written in it, while the other two were carefully festooned with smaller circle around the rim.

"Whatcha doing?" Blaine asked, recapping the markers before Kurt came in and saw them drying out.

"I'm making a poster for science class," Finn answered, taking one of the recapped markers from Blaine's hand and using it to color what looked like the crude drawing of a lighted sign. "I have to do a oral presentation on neon."

"Neon?" Blaine asked, watching Finn color carefully within the lines of his drawing.

"Yup," Finn said, raising his head and gesturing with his hands dramatically as he recited the title of his project, "Neon…a noble gas."

Blaine smirked.

"You know," Blaine said, recapping the last marker, eyes shifting around to see if anyone would hear, "you should ask Dave. I hear he has a lot of experiences with gas."

"Watch yourself, Anderson," Dave said, walking through the living room on his way to the kitchen, "or I'll tie you down and gag you myself."

"Kurt!" Blaine yelled, running through the house, "Dave's threatening to dominate me!"

Meanwhile, a quiet Finn shook his head and continued with his coloring.


	17. Hunted

**A/N:** _Written for the Klaine Advent Drabble Challenge Day 16 "Pulse"._

Kurt tiptoed through the dark. He didn't like this; feeling helpless…feeling vulnerable. He felt a hundred eyes trained on him from somewhere in the shadows all around. A cold breeze whipped through his hair and he shivered. His mind raced with all the possibilities, everything that might await him just around the corner. His breaths came quickly as he moved, slithering against the wall, quiet and nimble, like a cat. His black suit clung to him, trapping in the heat, making him feel heavier than he should.

He heard the shuffle of feet behind him and he froze…a single bead of sweat breaking free from his hairline and dripping over his brow, hovering dangerously close to his eyes. He longed to blink it away, but he dared not move. _Not a sound, Kurt. Not a sound, or they might hear you._

Something in Kurt's head told him that he was already too late.

He sighed deeply, clutching hard to the gun in his hands.

Only one thing to do, and he didn't look forward to it. Not at all.

Kurt Hummel didn't back down in the face of a challenge. He would turn, face the predator that stalked him, and fight.

The pulse came out of nowhere, before he even had the chance to turn around, hitting him square in the chest. Lights flashed and alarms blared in Kurt's ears. It was over. Game over. Over before it had even begun. Kurt hung his head in defeat.

"Uncle Kurt!" Finn crowed as he jumped out from behind the partition, Blaine giggling behind him. "You suck at this!"

"Yeah!" Blaine agreed. "We've been following you for the last ten minutes." Blaine wrapped his arms around his dom, kissing him fiercely on the lips.

"Kurt," Blaine whispered, a sly grin mocking Kurt as it grew on Blaine's face, "were you doing that inner monologue thing again?"

Kurt rolled his eyes.

"You think you know me so well, Blaine Anderson," Kurt sneered playfully, "but you don't have a clue."

Blaine raised an eyebrow as he looked into Kurt's steely gray eyes. Kurt dropped his head.

"Yes," he admitted. "Yes, I was."

Blaine barked out a laugh, kissing Kurt lightly as Finn began to howl.

"Ugh!" Kurt groaned. "This is what I wasn't looking forward to."

They both turned to see Finn, dancing around obnoxiously, wiggling his butt as he jumped back and forth.

"Does he always have to do that?" Kurt shook his head. Barbra limped slowly out from behind another partition with Dave and Adam in tow.

"Can we go now?" she asked earnestly, looking a little more than tired.

"Yes," Blaine said, glancing once more at Finn. "I think we've had more of that…" He gestured to the still gyrating boy, "…than I can take."

Dave grinned.

"Let's get a pizza and go home to your sisters," he said as Adam helped him out of his gear.

"Yeah," Kurt agreed, handing his laser gun to Blaine and starting with his own breastplate.

"Don't worry, babe," Blaine reassured Kurt. "We'll be back here for laser tag next week, and I can hunt you down again."

Kurt pecked a quick kiss to Blaine's lips, biting his sub's lower lip for good measure.

"I can hardly wait."


	18. Fifteen Stitches

**A/N: **_Inspired by Klaine Advent Drabble Day 18 "stitch". Rated G._

Fifteen Stitches

Kurt didn't understand Eva's sullen mood. His little spitfire, a constant bundle of energy, never seemed to tire and never got upset, especially with Blaine around. Yet there she was, sulking in the corner, as far away from the rest of the family as she could get, avoiding eye contact with everyone.

Kurt looked the girl over, watching her pick at the frayed threads in the knees of her denim jeans, her blue shirt loose and ill-fitting. Seeing Eva in jeans and a t-shirt was a rare sight lately. Kurt's brow furrowed, as he regarded the old clothes. Then, Kurt sighed. He finally understood.

Kurt patted Blaine's knee, rising from his spot on the sofa and walking over to Eva's corner. She pulled her arms tight around her knee when she heard him approach. He sat a small distance away, giving the girl her space to feel comfortable.

"Eva…sweetheart," Kurt started carefully. "Where's your daisy dress?"

Blaine had bought Eva a cute sundress. It was green gingham and covered in daisies. Blaine had started calling Eva 'his little daisy' due to his penchant for light-heartedly sniffing her hair. One day, she looked at him, all scrunched face and smiling, and asked, "Why you smell me?"

"Because you're my little daisy," he had replied, rubbing his nose against hers, and the nickname stuck.

The dress was a simple cotton dress, nothing at all fancy about it except the daisy trim that lined the bodice and the hem. Eva had put it on the moment Blaine gave it to her and refused to take it off. She wore it to school, to the playground, and even wore it to bed on the days Kurt couldn't convince her to take it off and have it washed.

But now, the dress was conspicuously absent.

Eva didn't answer Kurt; just fiddled with the threads some more, twirling them around her fingers and pulling hard till they snapped.

"Eva…" Kurt urged.

Eva's face turned to meet his, wide brown eyes watery, lower lip quivering. The girl who never really hugged anyone except Blaine grabbed Kurt's hand and held it to her face.

"Oh, Eva," Kurt cooed. "Please, let me help you."

Eva didn't say a word. She simply stood, holding Kurt's hand. Kurt stood, too, and she pulled him along, ducking quickly into her room, and shutting the door behind them.

Eva stopped in the center of the room and stood there frozen, not telling Kurt anything of what happened to the dress. She stared at Kurt intensely, trying to convey the information using only her eyes, and when that didn't work, she pointed despairingly in the direction of her bed.

Kurt climbed over the small mattress and reached beneath her pile of stuffed animals, each one dressed in an outfit made out of Blaine's old shirts. He felt beneath her pillow and found the dress, carefully folded and tucked away. Eva put her hands over her eyes, hoping that if she couldn't see Kurt, then he wouldn't see her.

Kurt unfolded the dress and held it up for inspection. Aside for some fading, Kurt couldn't see anything wrong. He shook the dress out, and that's when he noticed a length of the daisy trim hanging down from the fabric.

"Oh, Eva, why didn't you just tell me?"

Eva didn't answer. She whimpered behind her fists as she pressed them into her eyes.

"Did you think Blaine would be angry if he saw this?"

Eva whimpered again, but this time she also nodded.

"Eva, I can fix this."

Eva's whimpering stopped.

"You mean that?" she asked in a small, shaky voice.

"Of course." Kurt tried to sound as confident as he could so that the little girl would trust him with her precious dress. "Do you want to come watch me?"

Eva nodded slowly.

Kurt and Eva walked back out through the house, out the patio doors, and to Kurt's studio in the yard. Eva didn't like the little house with the deep red walls, so Eva sat and waited in the grass while Kurt went inside and fetched a needle and thread. Together they sat, Eva leaning over Kurt's lap while he sewed the daisy trim carefully back into place. When he finished, he tied off the thread and snipped it, holding the dress back up with a tiny huff of triumph.

Eva took the dress and brought the trim up to her eye, bouncing from the mended section to another section, examining the stitches.

"That fifteen stitches," she observed with a note of astonishment. "Doesn't look different."

"Nope, it doesn't." Kurt watched her cradle the dress in her arms. She looked at him with her signature smile.

"Can you teach me?"

Kurt sat up straight. Eva never asked Kurt for anything – not to read to her, or play with her. Before he had met Blaine, Kurt was the one who could best 'handle' her, but they never really had a connection; nothing even close to what she and Blaine shared. But here she was, asking him for something.

Kurt wanted to cry.

"Now?" he asked.

Eva scoffed.

"Not now," she said, rolling her eyes. "Now I put on my dress."

She took off back toward the house. Kurt sat stunned. Even if she never did come back and ask him for sewing lessons, this whole moment they shared was a huge step. By the time Kurt pried himself off the grass and walked back in the house, Eva had changed into her daisy dress, and sat in Blaine's lap, recounting the harrowing tale of the ripped trim, and how Kurt had valiantly fixed it.

That's how he remembers her story, anyway.

"Fifteen stitches, Uncle Blaine," she chirped happily, with just one or two babbling words thrown in her excitement. "And Uncle Kurt promised to teach me sewing."

And he did.

The next day she came to him with a tiny basket full of ripped doll clothes, victims of a few of her earlier tantrums, and they sat together on the living room floor and repaired them.

Repairing the clothes led to designing her own, and before anyone knew it, or realized that her hobby would someday become a career, she received a full-scholarship to Parsons.

Kurt sighed at the memory – the memory of the day when Eva finally opened that door in her heart that everyone eventually found their way into, and let Kurt in.

"Hey, did you fall asleep there?" Blaine joked, tapping Kurt lightly. Kurt turned to look at Blaine, a still beautiful but older Blaine, past the needle and white thread in his own cramping hand.

"No. I didn't fall asleep," Kurt snapped playfully. "It's just…"

"Uncle Kurt," Eva said, watching Kurt sew her dress, "are you okay? You're eyes are watering."

"I'm fine, young lady." Kurt sniffled, wiping away an obvious tear with the back of his hand. "It's just a little tiring sewing all this lace by hand," Kurt explained. "Do you know how many stitches…"

"Fifteen per inch," Blaine and Eva parroted together.

Kurt sighed.

"I just don't see why you don't run it under the sewing machine," Blaine insisted, gesturing running fabric through a machine with his hands. "No one will notice."

Kurt and Eva looked at him in disgust.

"It's a wedding dress, Blaine," Kurt groaned, "not a Prom dress. I can't just run it through a machine."

"Besides," Eva added, "Uncle Nicky would notice."

"Not Uncle Jeff," Kurt said with a smile, gently poking the needle through the delicate fabric.

"Nope," Eva agreed, "but Char—"

Eva stopped when she saw Blaine's eyes drop sadly to his hands, fiddling with a spare piece of satin. Kurt turned his head and sighed, watching Eva drop down onto Blaine's lap, and rub her nose against his.

Charley, Eva's fiancé, the little boy Nick and Jeff adopted pretty much the day after they got married, had grown up with Eva, trading a healthy measure of disgust for a fond affection through high school. But when they both met again at Parsons, they fell in love.

Charley was a wonderful boy.

Blaine tried his hardest to hate him, for no other reason than he was taking his little Eva away.

"He doesn't deserve you, Daisy," Blaine said softly.

"Yes, he does," Kurt said pointedly.

Blaine knew he was right.

"Yeah, he does," Blaine relented.

Eva put her arms around Blaine's shoulders, and he wrapped his arms around her waist.

"I'll always love you, Uncle Blaine," she whispered into his curls.

"And I'll always love you, Daisy," Blaine replied, kissing her on the cheek.

Kurt couldn't help letting himself cry a little when the room became quiet and he heard Blaine sniffling quietly behind him.

Their little girl had grown up, and now she was getting married.

Just fifteen stitches left to go.


	19. So Close to You

**A/N:** _Written for the Klaine Advent Drabble prompt "us". Rated PG13 for language. A shout-out has to go to ASuperGleek. A chapter of her story The Understudy helped inspire this.  
_

Blaine sits sifting through old yearbooks, reminiscing on days past, all the friends he made and cherished. He savors each photograph, tracing over some with his fingertips, as if he might be able to reach in and return to that moment in time. And in a way he does, because it all went by so quickly, in the blink of an eye, that the blink of an eye brings him right back to those moments. He sighs as he turns a few more pages. Then he stops…and he stares, the smile growing on his face a mixture of mirth and disbelief.

"Oh my God," he mutters, laughing.

Kurt walks in with another box to go through.

"Why is it," Kurt says, "that I feel like I'm doing all the work, and you're just in here daydreaming?"

Kurt looks over Blaine's shoulder and rolls his eyes.

"Worse," he says. "You're looking at old pictures of yourself."

"Not of me, love," Blaine says, "_us_."

Kurt puts the box on the floor with an undignified groan.

"What?" He drops down onto the bed beside Blaine.

Blaine passes the open book to Kurt and points to a picture on the page. Kurt lifts the book to his face, a small spark of recognition lighting in his eyes.

"Hey," Kurt says, giggling, "I remember those blazers."

"Really?' Blaine drawls, waiting for the moment of recognition to hit him.

"Yeah." Kurt shakes his head and chuckles. "There was this group we sang against in high school. God, I remember thinking they were so stuck up…"

Blaine's smile falls instantly.

"Really?" he says again, a little tighter this time.

"Oh, God, yes," Kurt says earnestly, looking into Blaine's eyes, not noticing the change in his mood. "They were an a cappella group. Did a lot of Katy Perry..." Kurt groans and rolls his eyes. Blaine's cheeks get hot. Kurt puts down the book and gestures emphatically with his hands. "Wait, wait, wait…" Kurt jumps on the bed in his excitement. "I remember they had this lead singer…" Kurt rolls his eyes to the ceiling, smiling fondly. "He looked so good in his uniform…"

"Really?" Blaine's smile returns.

"Yeah…he had the hottest ass…no offense…"

"None taken." Blaine bites his lip as Kurt continues.

"And the way he moved…" Kurt moans, closing his eyes to recapture the memory. "But his hair…he used to wear it in this God awful gel helmet…kind of the way you did…on _Sing_…"

Kurt's eyes open, and a comical look of horror and recognition war on his face. Kurt looks at Blaine, still biting his lip. Kurt grabs for the book and looks closely at the picture on the page.

"Oh my God!" Kurt squeals, looking at the handsome boy in the uniform. "That's you!"

"Yup," Blaine confirms. "My last year at Dalton."

Blaine points to the photo again.

"Take a look at the boy to my left."

Kurt had been so absorbed by the photo of the Dalton Academy Warblers and their spiffy uniforms that he didn't notice another boy standing to the far left where another group photo had been cropped; one lonely member having survived the cut. This boy stood almost back to back with Blaine. Had either one of them reached back they would have touched…turned around and they would have met.

Kurt's eyes go wide.

"That's me," Kurt says in awe. "I'm standing right there next to you, and we never even met." Blaine nods, sitting closer to Kurt so he can share his view of the photograph.

"I was so close to you," Blaine whispers, looking at a younger version of the themselves, both looking forward to the future with not a clue what it would contain.

Kurt looks down at the space between them, barely an inch difference from where their hands rest on the bed.

He chuckles, looking up into Blaine's face and kissing the tip of his nose.

"Look at how close we are now."


	20. A Shot in the Dark

**A/N: **_This was inspired by Klaine Advent Drabble prompt "vodka" and got a little dirtier than I intended, but I think also shows how fluid Kurt and Blaine's relationship is, how nothing is off limits for them. Rated M for smut and alcohol._

Kurt sat perched astride Blaine's hips, naked except for a garter and a pair of black silk stockings. Blaine, hands cuffed above him to the wooden slats of the headboard, completely naked with his dom pinning him to the mattress, stared up at the delicious sight of Kurt, sitting calm and cool, icy blue eyes shining, shot glass poised close to his lips. Kurt ran his tongue along the plump, pink skin slowly as he made ready to inhale the clear liquid…and then stopped.

"What I don't understand is this…" Kurt said. Blaine exhaled dramatically, his eyes rolling back behind his closed lids. "Why would you keep a present from the dreaded ex?"

"Because it's vodka," Blaine explained. "And I happen to like vodka."

"And why did she buy you the stuff that comes in a big crystal skull?" Kurt reached down to his side, fondling the fluid filled glass skull suggestively.

Blaine swallowed hard.

"You know her," Blaine answered, his voice cracking when Kurt ran just his fingertips lightly over the smooth surface. "She likes to think she's so punk rock and hard core. It's just kitsch."

Kurt brought the shot to his lips slowly again, and Blaine watched, eyes wide, waiting for Kurt to take a sip. Blaine wasn't sure why, but the thought of being dominated by a tipsy Kurt made his whole body tremble.

"Kitsch?"

Kurt moved the shot away from his lips again. Blaine's cock ached where it rested against his stomach. Kurt reached over the side of the bed to the floor and grabbed the box the skull head of vodka came in.

"It says here," Kurt read thoughtfully, "it's made from Newfoundland water triple crystal filtered through Herkimer diamonds…" Kurt looked back at Blaine, making a mock impressed face. Noticing the look of desperation on his sub's face, he turned back to the box, small smirk curling his lips, and continued reading. "Oooo, Dan Akroyd makes this stuff."

"Kuuurt?" Blaine whined, trying not to shift uncomfortably beneath his dom's body, forcing himself not to seek friction for his throbbing erection.

"Wait, wait, wait…" Kurt continued, ignoring Blaine's plaintive plea, "In reverence of those enlightened after touching any of the thirteen crystal heads unearthed around our globe we offer this pure spirit." Kurt raised a brow, tossed the box to the floor, and fixed his gaze on Blaine's lust blown eyes.

"Well, well," Kurt cooed. "Bottoms up."

Blaine licked his lips as he watched Kurt take the shot and swallow, but almost immediately Kurt's serene face twisted into a grimace of pain and disgust."

"Oh my God!" Kurt groaned. "That tastes awful. It's like…rubbing alcohol and metal shavings!" He swallowed a few more times, shaking his head and whimpering. "And it burns!"

Kurt expected Blaine to laugh, to chuckle darkly at his expense, but Blaine's eyes devoured the sultry image of Kurt, dressed in delicate black silk and lace, pounding back that shot, grimace or not.

"Well, people often mix it with other things," Blaine said hurriedly, watching Kurt pour another shot, cap the skull head bottle, and inhale it with a sharp, backward snap of his neck. Kurt looked at Blaine over the rim of the empty glass, studying the honey-colored eyes that burned through him like fire. The heat in Blaine's eyes fueled his own – a deep, roiling boil that started in the pit of his stomach; a potent mix of unbridled lust and alcohol. He felt it warm his whole body, his skin tingling, licked by tiny flames beneath his flesh.

Kurt leaned forward over Blaine's body slowly, purposefully depriving Blaine of the feel of his skin, hovering just above where Blaine wanted Kurt so desperately. Kurt felt a little more loose, a little more free. He looked down at Blaine, smiling a lopsided, knowing smile. Blaine could smell the alcohol on him – sharp and strong and heady, full of a strange, erotic power.

"What do you think it would taste like," Kurt whispered, "if I mixed it with you?"

Blaine waited patiently as he watched his dom pour another shot. Kurt dipped one long, elegant finger into the clear liquid, capturing a drop on his skin. He ran the wet finger over Blaine's lips, circling the sensitive skin twice before leaning in close and capturing Blaine's mouth in a kiss, deep and dirty, not enough tongue and too much teeth, desperate enough to make Blaine want to beg for more.

Kurt pulled away too quickly. Another finger dipper in vodka circled Blaine's mouth, and before he could catch the drips on his tongue, Kurt was on him like a breath of warm air in an already too hot room. A spark shot through him at the taste of Kurt's tongue. Alcohol was foreign, almost taboo when associated with Kurt. With the exception of a single shot of tequila and a few glasses of wine, Kurt rarely drank, never felt the need to surrender to the abandon that came with excessive drinking.

There was something exciting and sensual about the taste of vodka on Kurt's lips. It made Blaine's dom more dangerous, alluring, provocatively human – strength with flaws, control with a touch of rebellion. Blaine quivered as Kurt took more and more from his lips and his mouth till Blaine's lips stung and he couldn't breathe without Kurt.

Kurt sat up, Blaine's lips pursed, chasing Kurt as he pulled away. Kurt smirked at the look of blissful agony on Blaine's face.

"That was sweet," Kurt said, his voice husky and breathless. "Let's see how it tastes somewhere else."

Kurt raised the still mostly full shot over Blaine's body and tipped it, carefully pouring the cool liquid into the hollow of Blaine's neck. Some of it pooled, and some of it slipped over his skin in a thin river. Kurt lapped at the small puddle of vodka slowly with his tongue. Blaine moaned every time Kurt's silky tongue touched his skin. When it was mostly gone, Kurt latched over it, sucking lightly to clean away the rest of the liquid.

Kurt giggled when he raised his head, cheeks flushed pink, pupils blown wide.

"Kurt…" Blaine's voice quivered slightly. "That's your third shot."

"I know." Kurt kissed along the column of Blaine's neck, licking along the tracks left by the tiny rivers of vodka. "I think I might be starting to feel it."

"I wish I could feel it," Blaine whispered, dying with every ounce of his desire for Kurt to drink a body shot off his dom.

Kurt bit his lip as his kisses traveled around to Blaine's mouth.

"I don't know if I should," Kurt hummed, tiny vibrations spiraling off his lips and along Blaine's skin, skimming smoothly down his muscles and making his already aching cock throb.

"Let me, Kurt," Blaine pleaded softly, melting as Kurt's lips brushed over his skin.

"Well…" Kurt smiled, sitting up and grabbing the bottle to pour another shot. "Maybe you should at least catch up."

Kurt moved the bottle to the floor, and held the shot, looking between it and Blaine in confusion. Blaine jiggled the handcuffs.

"Maybe…" Blaine raised a brow hopefully.

"Right…" Kurt put the shot on the bedside table and picked up the tiny silver key. He fumbled the key with trembling fingers. Kurt tried to fit the key in the lock, ignoring the way Blaine's tongue gently circled his nipple, sucking on the hard nub, rolling it carefully between his teeth. Only one cuff came undone, but Blaine didn't care. He was after one thing, already felt it filling his mouth, sliding over his tongue. He lunged for Kurt, flipping him quickly onto his back and locking Kurt's wrist in the loose cuff. Kurt's eyes went wide with shock as he watched his sub. Blaine had the shot in his hand, a wicked smile curling his lips, but instead of drinking it, he dribbled the contents of the glass from Kurt's belly button down to his groin and over his cock, soaking the lace garter, still hugging Kurt's hips. Blaine dropped down over Kurt, following the trail below his stomach with his tongue, smiling with delight when Kurt arched his back and growled. Without a breath of warning, Blaine took him, surrounding Kurt's cock with the heat of his mouth, searching out the vodka with his tongue, snaking around Kurt's shaft and lapping greedily.

Kurt had had Blaine's mouth on him more times than he could remember, and it always felt amazing, but this was different. This wasn't just sucking and licking; this was drinking, tasting, savoring. Blaine poured another shot over Kurt's skin, and Kurt bucked up sharply into his sub's mouth. Kurt could feel Blaine swallow, humming appreciatively at the tastes of sharp and smooth, bitter and salty. He couldn't separate them, couldn't discern the difference between Kurt and the vodka, so he devoured them both.

"Oh, Blaine," Kurt moaned, pulling against the cuff on his wrist. "God, yes!"

Kurt couldn't keep still, rolling his hips up to meet Blaine's mouth, and Blaine moved with him, following the movements of Kurt's body. One more shot poured over Kurt's skin, lapped up by Blaine's greedy tongue, sipped through his lips, and he started to feel the fire, too, but how much of it was vodka and how much of it was Kurt, Blaine couldn't tell. His head was swimming, his stomach on fire, and Blaine needed Kurt's lips on his so he could cum.

Blaine climbed up Kurt's body, laying over him while he filled his glass for one more shot. Blaine tossed it back quick, groaning as the liquid burned his throat. He coughed a few times, breathing deeply to clear his head. Then his mouth was on Kurt's, his uncuffed hand wrapping around his cock and Kurt's, stroking quickly, steadily. Kurt moaned and bit Blaine's lip, fingers lacing between Kurt's where their hands lay trapped beneath their bodies.

"God, baby," Blaine murmured between kisses, "you're fucking hot when you're a little tipsy, aren't you?"

Kurt bit Blaine's lower lip gently, pulling slightly so it stung.

"And…and you're kind of a slut about it, too," Blaine panted. Kurt giggled.

"Is that my sexy dominator talking?" Kurt asked demurely. "Because I like it when he comes out to play."

"Yeah?" Blaine's voice dropped to a whisper, smooth and sinful as he moved his lips lightly over Kurt's body. "He likes having you to play with."

Blaine regretted for a moment not letting Kurt uncuff his other hand. He would have loved having Kurt completely at his mercy – hands trapped above his head, immobile, helpless, while Blaine toyed and tortured him, bringing him so close to the edge and then pulling away, leaving him wanting and destitute, writing and begging for relief.

But this closeness was what Blaine favored. Kurt's silk-sheathed leg twined its way around Blaine's body, tightening to bring them closer. Kurt's hand restlessly danced over Blaine's body, nails digging into his muscles, searching for something to grab. Kurt's mouth and skin still tasted like vodka, and Blaine couldn't get enough. Blaine didn't just kiss Kurt, he consumed him, and without realizing what he was doing, he had rolled on top of Kurt, letting go of their cocks to pin Kurt's free hand to the pillow, the cuffed one already raised above his head. Blaine's hips bore down on Kurt, rutting against his quickly, roughly.

Kurt loved the feeling of being trapped beneath Blaine. He blinked his eyes, trying to capture a glimpse of his beautiful sub during his ruthless attack, but the room spinning made focusing impossible. Kurt didn't drink, so he was surprise the tipping and tilting of the world didn't make him sick. He felt grounded beneath Blaine's body, and an unfamiliar liquid flame connected every muscle and every nerve until he no longer felt human.

He spread his legs wide for Blaine, moaned like a whore into the air around him, didn't care an inch for any of the control that quickly siphoned away, did nothing to grab it back. Rational thought became a sick joke as he felt himself being used, being stripped down to the only elements that seemed to matter to Blaine in this intense moment – his cock and his mouth.

Blaine pinned Kurt down by his wrists, held them tight until they hurt. A whimper slipped past Kurt's lips followed by a pornographic moan of pleasure. Blaine marked Kurt's skin, bit across his chest, and Kurt responded, arching up to meet his mouth, begging and babbling and sometimes giggling. Kurt was so sweet, so incredibly desirable, but he wasn't just a toy to Blaine.

He was everything.

That was why feeling Kurt cum beneath him while Blaine still chased his own orgasm was such a treat, such a reward. It was the feel of Kurt cumming against Blaine's skin that did him in, the strained gasp in Kurt's voice when he opened his mouth to say one last thing and couldn't, the hands that had been rolling in Blaine's grasp stilling, fingers flexing in the air.

Kurt's body was filthy from his own cum and sticky from where spit and vodka dried across his skin, and Blaine ached to lick him clean, but that moment passed quickly as the heat from the alcohol bled away, and in the cool, calm air lay his sated Kurt, and the overwhelming desire to be wrapped in his arms.

Curling up beside Kurt and feeling him fold around his body required an awkward twist of Blaine's arm behind his back, since the key to the cuffs had become momentarily lost in the mix, but Blaine didn't care. He craved Kurt's closeness in moments like this, when the sex was over and Blaine came back to himself, fully aware that Kurt had relinquished some measure of control.

"Okay," Kurt giggled, kissing Blaine's temple, feeling Blaine smile where his head rested against his chest, "put that one on the list. It was kind of fun."


	21. Someone to Tell My Secrets to

**A/N:** _This story is otherwise known as 'The Life of Brian'. Inspired by the Klaine Drabble Prompt "whisper". Rated G._

Eva walked with Kurt and Blaine through the swinging double doors of the shelter. Eva clung to Blaine's hand. She wore large, black, noise canceling headphones to block out the noise of dogs barking and cage doors crashing together. Eva pressed her body as close to Blaine's leg as she could, until he almost couldn't walk comfortably. He looked down at her head of dark curls and smiled. He raised his eyes to see Kurt raising his eyes as well, giving Blaine a sympathetic look.

Blaine ran a hand through Eva's dark hair. She looked up at him with a weak half-smile, a little weary of being in this large building with the many cages and the fidgeting, fussing animals.

Eva had just started school and the first week seemed to go by just fine. But then she seemed to withdraw. She still talked to Blaine, but took to talking with him secretly, staying close to his side and whispering in his ear. Hunter suggested that she might not be dealing with the change very well – new environment, new schedule, new people, new sounds, new smells. She hadn't developed any new triggers, but she had become quiet and easily frustrated, sometimes to the point of tears. In a way, the new silent Eva was a bit more off-putting than full-out tantrum Eva, whom thankfully they really only saw once in a blue moon.

Hunter had suggested getting her a cat. A cat would offer her companionship, something that could help soothe and comfort her through the rough patches in her day.

Hunter had called ahead to the shelter, talking with an administrator who dealt with therapy animals. He told her that Kurt and Blaine would be coming, and bringing Eva to find a new friend.

An older woman with slightly graying hair and a genuine smile approached. Blaine felt Eva tighten around his leg, and Blaine reacted, putting up a hand to keep the woman from coming too close.

"If you don't mind," Blaine said, smiling warmly. The woman's confused eyes flicked down at the girl hiding between Blaine's legs, wearing large headphones and squeezing her eyes shut, and she understood.

"Mr. Anderson," the woman said. She turned to Kurt and nodded. "Mr. Hummel. Welcome. My name is Lydia. We have a room all set up for you in the therapy wing."

She led the way through another set of double doors, and a hallway that was much more quiet, much more peaceful. She told them about their program, and the animals they screen and deem eligible for adoption specifically as therapy animals. Blaine absorbed every word, talking excitedly about the program, while simultaneously limping along with little Eva still firmly attached. Kurt pulled up the rear, feeling almost forgotten, but smiling as he watched the interaction.

She led them to a conference room at the far end of the hallway, away from the sounds of people, animals, and metal cages. The rough carpet beneath their feet absorbed the sound of their footsteps as they walked across it. Kurt wondered how they would pick the perfect cat for Eva exactly. Would they need to fill out a personality profile, or take some sort of test?

The process, to Kurt's surprise, was much simpler than that. Cat after cat was brought into the room – one at a time with a minute or two in between so that Eva could become comfortable with the influx of animals. After the last cat was brought in, fifteen cats total milled about the open space, and the three adults watched to see how Eva would react. For a while, Eva sat in the far corner of the room, not anxiously, but curiously. A few cats approached her, and she would eye them with a mixture of concern and interest, but then they would turn and go on their merry way.

After a while, the cats stopped finding Eva interesting, and she didn't seem all too interested in the cats, either. At one point, Lydia put out a small arrangement of toys for Eva to use to try and entice the cats to play, but Eva just looked at them, and then looked away.

Kurt leaned against Blaine and sighed. He didn't want to give up hope, but it didn't seem like a cat was the answer to their prayers.

"I don't understand," Lydia said, watching the scene play out, mouth agape. "Not one of them seems to be attuned to her mood, and she's giving off some pretty blaring signs."

Kurt wasn't exactly sure how this 'cat magic' was supposed to work, so he simply nodded sadly in agreement.

Kurt squeezed Blaine's hand as he watched the mob of cats ignoring his little girl, and Eva, still with her headset on, staring at the ceiling.

The woman who helped bring the cats in walked through the double doors, burdened with one more cat.

"I'm sorry, Lydia," she said, walking straight to the older woman, cat in tow. "He got out again."

Lydia looked at the striped cat and sighed.

"What are we going to do with you?" she cooed to the cat, who struggled to be free. He twisted impossibly from his handler's grasp, and plopped to the floor, scurrying away to join the throng.

Kurt turned to Lydia.

"I think maybe we should take Eva and…"

Blaine squeezed Kurt's hand and pointed to the far corner of the room, where the new cat stalked little Eva curiously. Eva turned her head and looked once…then she looked twice…then she looked around to see who the cat might be walking up to. She stepped back a little ways when she realized the cat was coming up to her, but then the tiny beast wrapped itself around her ankles, walking through her legs and over her feet, rubbing its smooth body against her. Kurt and Blaine, and maybe even Lydia, held their collective breaths and waited. Eva touched the cat experimentally on the top of the head, between his ears. He closed his green eyes and purred. Eva giggled. She sat on the floor and placed the cat in her lap. She hugged the animal to her and sighed. The cat didn't struggle, made no move to leave, and the collective breath held in the room by all relaxed into a happy sigh. Kurt and Blaine gave Eva a moment with the cat, just to make sure this wasn't a fluke, before approaching little Eva and her friend.

Blaine sat beside Eva and took off her headset, the small girl's face beaming from ear to ear.

"Eva's cat," she said, hugging the cat and burying her nose into its fur. Kurt cringed for a moment, thinking the cat might bolt or try to scratch, but he was content to sit in her arms and be molested.

"I think maybe he is," Blaine said, putting a comforting hand on her knee. "Now you have someone else you can tell all your secrets to."

Eva nodded proudly, cuddling the cat close.

"That's a beautiful cat," Kurt said calmly, eying the marbled brown cat in Eva's arms. "What do you think his name is?"

Eva leaned close to the cat's ear, whispering to it quietly. Then she turned her head and put her ear up to the cat's mouth, as if listening to the answer.

"Brian," Eva said, addressing Kurt out loud for the first time in days. "He says his name is Brian."


End file.
